


Raising Philip

by GwendolynGrace



Series: Rewritten History [1]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 20th Century, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoption, Alexander is everyone's dad, Bisexual Male Character, Closeted Character, Complicated Relationships, Eating Disorders, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Modern Era, Multi, One Big Happy Family, Orphans, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Sibling Love, Sibling Rivalry, gratuitous godfather references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8448286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynGrace/pseuds/GwendolynGrace
Summary: Any parent knows that a phone call in the middle of the night spells bad news. For Alexander and Eliza, it was also a turning point in their family--but not in the way anyone expected. How does a nephew become a son? How does a boy who's been taught to fear learn to love?





	1. The Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

> This work is intended to inhabit the same timeline and universe as the modern era chapter of [Reconstruction, Redaction, and Reading the Record](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5344241/chapters/12925138), but it is not necessary to have read that work to read this one. 
> 
> This work intentionally draws inspiration from both the musical "Hamilton" by Lin-Manuel Miranda and from historical events.

**November, 1995**

 

Any parent knows that when the phone rings in the dead of night, it spells trouble.

Alexander hadn't expected wee-hour phone calls to start before his eldest had hit double digits, however, so when the phone rang at 4:13 a.m. that chilly November morning, waking him, Eliza, and the three-year-old who had crawled in with them a few hours previously, he assumed it was something to do with the firm. He couldn't have been more wrong.

"Alex? It's Angelica." Her voice was strained, as if in distress.

"Ange? What's wrong?" he said, darting a glance at Eliza. She was busy soothing Juan's frightened crying--she was constantly worried about scares that might make him hyperventilate and trigger an asthma attack--but now she turned her attention back toward her husband.

"Why's Angelica calling at this hour?" she asked, which unfortunately overlapped with Angelica's next statement in Alex's other ear.

"I'm sorry, Eliza was just asking me--Ange, it's 4 a.m. in New York."

"I know, I'm sorry but--you said Lizzie's awake, too? Put her on, will you?"

Wordlessly, he held out the receiver and traded it for the toddler. Juan sat on his lap and snuggled against his shoulder, babbling in his three-year-old patois. As Alexander shushed and cuddled Juan, he listened to his wife's end of the conversation.

"Angie? …. What?" Her face blanched. "Oh, my God--no. Are they _sure_?" She covered her mouth with her hand but couldn't do more than look at Alex before Angelica had answered. "Oh. Oh, no. Did Bà say--Okay." Alex held out his hand for her to take, still in the dark but responding instinctively to Eliza's distress. "I don't--we'll figure something out. Where's Phil, is he there with Mom?" She shook her head apologetically, leaned into his supportive touch. "Well, are he and Sarah able to--Oh. Okay…. Angie, okay! Of course. Of course, I will…. No, I don't have a shift until Monday…. All right, okay. Let me start putting a bag together. Talk to Alexander."

She handed the phone back and rose. Juan squirmed out of Alex's grasp to hop off the bed and follow her. True to her comment into the phone, she dug in the closet for her carry-on suitcase.

"Not now, honey, Mama's got things to do. Go back to Daddy."

"Ange, it's me," Alexander said into the phone. "What's happened?"

"Oh, Alex," she sounded like she had been crying--which was not like his Ange. "There was a plane crash. Brad and Beth were on board."

"Fu--uuh--udge," he amended, acutely aware that his three-year-old had climbed back onto the bed for more cuddles. At least that explained Eliza's packing. He recognized her nurse's training in the precision of her movements, the controlled haste with which she opened the carry-on bag, rifled through the dresser drawers, and began filling the suitcase with essentials.

"Yeah," Angelica was saying. "They were coming over for--it doesn't matter. Something went wrong and they're--they're gone. It was on our news this morning; the airline had called Dad by the time John could confirm that it was Brad's flight."

"Jesus. Are you coming back to the States?"

"I have to... John and I are going to collect the--remains," she said, voice hitching. "But then we'll bring them back for burial. Whatever there is," she added darkly. "Dad wants them interred in Albany."

"Okay. Betsey's packing here--I guess I can follow in a couple days, with the boys. We'll figure it out."

"That's--Alex, I told Lizzie. Someone has to get Philip from school."

"Oh," Alexander said, realization striking. Brad's son, Philip, was about Jaime's age, but despite that, he attended a boarding school in New England. " _Mierde_." He'd been no stranger to losing guardians himself, but it would be different for a kid like Philip, who had barely had to deal with losing a tooth, let alone both his parents.

"Yeah. I asked Lizzie to do it. She'll know what to say to him."

"How're your parents?"

"Dad's--Dad, but Mom's pretty wrecked. I don't know. It's all happened fast. I'm sorry, I know it's the middle of the night and this is so not the kind of call anyone--"

"It's okay, Ange, _es familia_ , hey? Listen. You can get through this. I know you can. Just a few days and you'll be home with us. Maybe you ought to plan to stay a while."

"I would but--Whitehall is in London, not New York."

"Yeah, it's an issue. I told John he'd be tearing you in two to take that job."

"'That job' is a staff position in the British government, Alex Hamilton."

"But does he take you dancing on Saturday nights?" he teased lightly. It worked; she chuckled and some of the tension drained from her voice when she next spoke.

"I'll call Brenda so she can reassign my next few days of classes. And I have to call Peggy," she said, still sadly, but more calm than before.

"We'll do it. Is she still in LA?"

"No, she was in Vegas the last I heard. I'll track her down, you don't have to."

"Hey. Let me get this. You've got enough going on over there. I'll put Maria on it."

"Okay." She paused. "Alex, I--"

"Me too, Ange. We'll figure it all out when we're together in Albany. Okay?"

"Good. Yeah." She fell silent.

"Do you want your sister again?"

Eliza bustled back to the phone. "Angie, I'll take the next train and rent a car from Concord. Yes, I'll call the school. I'm sure they'll need--I know." She caught Alexander's eyes. "Well, yes, I think he's rather a catch, myself. But don't let _him_ know we think that."

"I'm sitting right here," Alexander pointed out.

"I wasn't talking about you," Eliza lied brazenly and went back to her phone conversation. "I'll call _Bà-Bà_ in a few hours, or maybe from the train station. And we'll call you when I get to Albany. Okay. Love you. Bye."

She hung up and sat heavily on the mattress next to Alexander. Juan asked immediately, "Mama going 'way?"

Eliza smiled at him to reassure him. "I'd take you along, _bǎobǎo_ , but I think I'd better not." She looked at Alexander. "Then again, is it fair to leave Daddy with all three of you?"

"We'll be all right," Alexander asserted. "Alejandro's old enough to be helping out, anyway."

"Please don't burn the house down," said Eliza. "Now, I figure I can catch a train up to Concord--those commuters run every hour or so--and rent a car from there."

"I heard you tell Angelica as much. What about the hospital? You know you won't be home by Monday."

"No. I'll call Denise before we leave, have her find someone for my shifts." She kept her tone clinical, flat, but Alexander could tell it was a defense against the grief just below the surface.

"Do you want Maria to arrange the car for you?" he offered.

"No, no, I'll just get something when I get there."

"Let me have Maria do a little price-shopping for you, at least. Call me when you get to the station and I'll have numbers."

"Fine," said Eliza, and Alexander let out a breath. The last thing he wanted was to quarrel about the price of a rental car. "I don't--care about the details right now, can we talk about logistics?"

"Sure," he answered right away, recognizing her need to focus on the overall plan.

"Good," she said, expelling a small sigh. "Okay, I'll pick up Philip and we'll take the train to Albany. Can you drive up with the boys on Friday?"

"Yes. What day is it now?"

She gave him her best "librarian" stare. "Tuesday."

"Okay." He poked Juan in the ribs. "What do you say, Juanito? Three days just us boys? Can we handle it?"

"No," Juan said confidently. "Want Mama to stay."

Eliza put her arms around him. "Johnny, Mama has to go collect your cousin Philip and...he's going to be very sad. I can't take you with me."

"Why not?"

"Because I want to have some time alone with Philip."

"No."

"Yeah," Alexander said in his trial voice. "That's not up for negotiation, Juanito. You stay with me and let Màmí go and do this. We'll see her Friday." He looked at the clock. "Let me get dressed while you finish packing; then I'll drive you to the station." He hugged Juan to soften the blow. "You can come along that far, okay?"

 

~

 

"You look like hell warmed over," Maria told him as he walked in. 

"Well, that's good, because I sure feel like it," he answered.

"Coffee?" she suggested.

As soon as she said it, he realized that he had missed that step in the disruption of the morning. "And that is why I love you, but I'll go down for the good stuff in a minute. First, I need you--"

"Oh, how I've waited for those words--"

"--To do a little searching for the best rental car rate in Concord, NH," he finished with a flirtatious but quelling look. "Um… better make it a three-day, pickup and drop off at the train station."

"For you? Why are you going to New England?"

He shook his head. "Eliza. She's taking the train up there now."

"I think maybe you'd better start from the top, _before_ you get that coffee, sugarlips," Maria said, and followed him into his office.

He explained the whole situation. "So, that's why I'm dragging my ass. By the time Eliza got packed, she figured we might as well get all three boys up, dressed, ready for school, so I could take them after we dropped her at the station. Hugs, tears, etc., etc.--and then I didn't have my briefcase, so I had to go back for it once the boys were squared away. I was all the way home so why drive back here--and then the subway was insane--"

"I get it." Maria's mouth hardened to a tight line. "I'll call the travel agency and see what they can find."

"Okay. Once that's done, I'll have another mission for you. Now are there any burning issues actually related to work, or may I go get my coffee?"

"Only if you get me one, too."

"Attagirl. I'll be back."

When he returned ten minutes later with two drinks (black for him; two cream, one sugar for Maria), she said, "It's gonna have to be Enterprise. They can pick her up but I don't know what train she's on to book a reservation."

"Hang on, I've got it somewhere." He went into his office, set down his coffee, and dug in his coat pocket for the right piece of paper. Eliza had called his mobile to give him the itinerary. "Um, can you read what I wrote?" he asked, holding it out to Maria.

She stepped inside the door to read it. "Acela Express 825. ETA 2:27 PM?"

Alexander examined his own scribble again. "Yes, I agree."

"So I'll have a car there at 2:30." She sipped her coffee and made a face.

"What? Two cream, one sugar, right?"

"The coffee's fine."

"Good. You know how many attorneys in this firm know how their assistants take _their_ coffee?"

"Three."

"One, that's--what? Who are the other two?"

She fixed him with a look that said "Do you really want to know?" and at his answering, challenging shrug, she sighed. "Mr. Burr, but then again that almost doesn't count. Jane takes hers black so it's not all that difficult. And there's Tom--I mean, Mr. Jefferson, of course, but--" she cut herself off coquettishly.

"But what?"

"Well, it hardly counts that he knows how Sally takes her coffee, either. Considering."

"Considering...what? That he's an ass?"

"That he's tapping that ass, more like," said Maria.

"No fucking way. Okay. Maybe--yeah, no, I can totally see him doing that."

"Well, he's divorced, it's his business."

"And yours to know everything that goes on in this office. God, I made the right call when I hired you."

She frowned at him. "I thought you hated gossip."

"Only when it's about people I like. Jefferson's a _cabròn_. Banging his secretary, how cliché." He grinned at her, but she was still frowning. "Okay. What did I do?"

"Nothing. I'll make the reservation for Mrs. Hamilton's car." 

Something about the way she said "Mrs. Hamilton" made Alexander raise an eyebrow, but before he could press the issue, Maria had gone back to her desk. His eye fell on the brief he'd been working on the day before, and he opened the folder. Soon, he was lost in the work.

An hour later, Maria brought him his second coffee and he remembered to ask her about finding Peggy Schuyler. "Try Lexus Nexus first for California and Nevada," he suggested. "She's in and out of trouble."

"Black sheep, huh?" Maria asked shrewdly.

"I wouldn't go that far. The Schuylers don't really have black sheep. More like...a dark grey one." He looked up and caught Maria's tight-lipped frown a fraction of a second before she brought her face back to neutral. "There it is again. What's up?"

"Nothing," she said, shrugging.

"Bullshit. Since when have you lied to me? Shut the door, sit down, and tell me what's going on."

When she had done so, she asked: "What you said before, about it being my business to know everyone else's…do you imagine that's how your colleagues see their assistants, too?"

Alexander leaned forward, chin in his hand. "Depends. Madison wouldn't think of it; Burr definitely wants Jane to have all the dirt. Jefferson--there's no level to which he won't sink. He's a snake. But some of the others--no, I don't think they expect their assistants to go round collecting inside information."

"But you do expect me to do it."

"No, I really don't," he said quite seriously. "It's just a fringe benefit."

"Would it even be something we talk about if you didn't know my history?"

He shrugged, leaning back. "I told you when you found me down in the Village: I don't care about your _history_. I care about your _actions_. Where's all this coming from? _Chica_ , you haven't had any recent problems with the other girls, have you?"

"Women, and no. Not at the office. But--look, I know Mrs. Hamilton doesn't like me and wishes you'd get a real administrative assistant. Not your old pro bono case who needed a handout."

"Okay, first of all, you _are_ a real administrative assistant. You do the work, you're good at the job, so fuck anyone who says otherwise. And secondly...Eliza isn't the type of person who judges."

She snorted.

"All right, she judges now and then. But not about this. She knows everything that happened and we're all cool."

"She knows about you cruising for boys on the West Side?"

"....Yeah." It had not been his finest hour, but he'd confessed to Eliza shortly afterward. It was 1992, and it had been ten years since Jack Laurens had contracted AIDS and died. For ten years, Alexander had tried to live a heterosexual life. It wasn't that he was unhappy with Eliza or the boys--he was, in fact, ecstatic about his family--but as the decennial of Jack's death neared, he had felt...empty. So he'd gone out one night, looking for men. Instead, he (and the man who'd been with him) came across Maria getting beaten up by her pimp/husband, and he'd interceded. 

The resulting tangle had taken over a year to resolve, but eventually he'd helped her get away from her no-good husband and back on her feet. Including a generous loan to get through secretarial school, and then hiring her as his assistant. 

As for him and Eliza, it had ushered in a new era for them as well. She knew he was bisexual--they'd met caring for John in John's final months, after all--and to her credit, she had never explicitly tried to keep him from forming relationships with men. But that had also been the early part of his career and after John died, he'd had a vested interest in appearing perfectly hetero, and keeping their relationship and family looking nuclear. Besides, marriage was marriage. Eliza had appropriately assumed that meant monogamy and everything that came with it. In point of fact, Alex had assumed it, too, and had been too ashamed at needing outside stimulation to say anything until circumstances forced him to confess. After what they came to refer to as the Reynolds incident, however, they'd found other ways to make things work while not requiring Alexander to deny part of himself.

"So she doesn't hold all that against me?"

"No, why would she? Look, I'm not saying it was a walk on the beach, but it's good now."

Maria held his eyes for a moment, then nodded. 

"Well, that's settled, then. Is that the Weber briefing?"

"Yes. Oh, and I'll change your four o'clock."

"Why, what's wrong with my four o'clock?"

"Ham. Your wife has left town, which means someone has to pick up your sons this afternoon."

"Oh. Right…."

 

~

 

Eliza called a little after three. "Thanks for the car. I had no idea how back-country this area is."

"Are you lost in the wilderness?" he teased.

"No. The car has a GPS. But the station is basically a platform next to the road!"

"Do you need me to get you a hotel?"

"I'll get a room closer to Philip's school," she said, and it twisted his heart to hear how tired she sounded. "I wanted to call before I got underway, though."

"Glad you did. Be careful, okay. New England could already have ice. Or polar bears."

"There aren't any polar bears in New Hampshire." He could hear her eyes rolling.

"Regular bears?"

She giggled. "I'll be fine. Did you hear anything more about the crash?"

"Yeah. I looked it up on some of the news sites. Do you want me to tell you?"

"Yes. No!" She sighed. "Yes, better do it. Philip might have questions."

He relayed the few facts that had been so far reported. "Are you okay?"

"I'm keeping it together," she said after a moment.

"When do you think you'll get there?" 

She gave an estimate that would allow her to call the boys at bedtime. "I'm torn about whether to pick him up tonight, and make him sleep in a hotel, or wait until morning."

"I think he'd want to see you as soon as possible. Has anyone at the school told him?"

"I just got off the phone with the matron, so...I don't know."

Alexander puffed out his cheeks. "Tough call. He's what--seven?"

"Eight."

Alexander didn't need to remind himself of his circumstances and the losses he'd tallied when he was only a little older than that. "Right. Still don't know why they thought an eight-year-old should go to boarding school, but--well, I think you should talk to the matron in person when you get there."

"That was my thought, too. I'll keep you posted. You remember you have to pick up the boys?"

"Yep, I've got it under control." She snorted. "Okay, Maria cleared my schedule and reminded me, but that counts." Another snort. " _Óralé_ , it totally counts!"

Her snort erupted in a full-on laugh. "All right, it counts. Well, I should hit the road. And you should get going, too, if you're going to get the boys. Just please don't burn--"

"--Burn the house down," he finished with her. "Okay, okay. Spoilsport. Talk to you in a few hours. _Te amo_."

"You'd better. Love you, too."

 

~

 

He checked his watch, found his wife was, unsurprisingly, correct, tidied up a bit, and bid Maria goodnight on his way out. Half an hour later, he arrived at Juan's day care. They'd been perplexed that morning, since it wasn't one of Juan's regular days, but he'd sweet-talked them into taking him without prior notice.

"Always a pleasure to see you, Mr. Hamilton!" the youngest of the ladies said. Whenever he saw her, she never failed to stay just on the safe side of flirtatious. Alexander smiled back and helped Juan into his jacket, and ignored their indulgent smiles. "Oh, uh--I'm gonna need to bring him back for the rest of the week…."

"No problem," she said. "I'll write it in. See you boys tomorrow!" He returned her goodbye somewhat less enthusiastically and nudged Juan out to the street.

Jay and Alex, Jr. were both at the same elementary school, complete with an after-school program. It was just a few blocks from their brownstone, but a short subway ride from the day care. Getting Juan on the subway, however, could be a bit of a challenge at times. He ranged between inexplicably nervous to go underground and entirely too frightened of the people on the platform or the train. Today Juan was more concerned with the fact that Eliza was not the one who'd picked him up.

"Mama's home?" he asked as they walked the two blocks to the station entrance.

"No, _chico_ , Màmí won't be home. Remember, we took her to the train this morning? We'll drive up to Grandma and Grandpa's on Friday and see her there."

"Why?"

"Why will we see her there? Because that's where she'll be."

"No, why not home?"

Alexander navigated them through the crowds and down the steps. "Because she had to go pick up your cousin, Philip, from school, and bring him to Grandma and Grandpa's."

"Why?" came the predictable question.

"What did you do at day care today?" he asked instead, putting off the moment of explanation until all three boys were together. There had been no good opportunity to tell them when they could discuss what Eliza's errand meant; it was something he would need to do, he knew, but it would be easier to address the three of them at once. The question distracted the boy while Alexander got them through the gates and onto the car, where Juan grew shy of all the people. He buried his face in his father's suit lapels. Like a seasoned New Yorker, he said nothing until they arrived at his brothers' school.

Balancing Jaime's gym bag, Juan's backpack, and his briefcase in one hand, with Juan on the other hip, and Alejandro and Jaime trailing behind him like ducklings, Alexander had two thoughts: first was that he needed to get back to the gym; second, that if he had to lug the boys around town on a regular basis, he wouldn't _need_ to get back to the gym. It was starting to rain, too. 

" _¡Vamos, mijos!_ " he said to hustle them the last few blocks. "Alejandro, don't you have an umbrella in your backpack?"

"Um…." His eldest son stopped dead, peeling his backpack off so he could rummage through it. "Oh, yeah!" he said. The jubilation was halfway between triumph and surprise. Closing up his pack again, he popped the automatic button and nearly took out his brother before raising the protective cloth overhead. He slung his pack over one shoulder while Jaime shrieked at the near miss.

"Hey, you're okay, _chaval_. Alex, be more careful, please. And keep moving. The object is to get home before we're all drenched, hey?"

"Can we race?" Alex asked.

"Hard to run with an umbrella. No. Just walk quickly, buddy."

Home was in sight when the heavens finally opened in earnest. Alexander cursed inwardly. The boys began whining in earnest, too. "Okay. Jaime, take your bag. Alejandro, carry Juan's bag--here." He handed off the two bags and shifted Juan to his other side, so he could dig in his pocket for his keys. "Alex, if you give me the umbrella and take my keys, you two can run to the door."

"COOL!" Alejandro said immediately. He held out the umbrella. Alexander tossed the keychain in an easy arc toward him and took the umbrella. His son snatched the keys from the air and shouted, "One, two, three, GO!" as he passed, barely giving Jaime time to realize there was a race on.

"Better catch up!" Alexander said to his middle boy. Jaime took off like a shot. Alexander felt Juan slipping. "Gotta get down, bud. Daddy can't hold you and his briefcase."

"Wet," came the toddler's predictable reply.

"I know, but the house is right there. Or…. Will you hold my briefcase for me?"

"Okay." Juan reached down and took the handle with both hands. Alexander wished, not for the first time, that he'd used the messenger bag instead, but there'd been no time to switch that morning. But with only two things to concentrate on, he could pick up his own pace. Juan bounced against his hip as he trotted the remaining half a block, the briefcase swaying in his son's grip.

They made it to the steps and inside. Alejandro and Jaime were shivering in the hallway, the door gaping open. Alexander put Juan down with relief, shut the door behind him, and took in the state of his drowned rats.

"Good thing we don't have a dog," Alexander said. "That open door. We'd be running right back out in the rain for him. Okay, _mijos_ , upstairs, out of those clothes. Bathtime."

"We just had a bath last night!" Alex, Jr., attempted. The chattering of his teeth undercut his argument.

"Trust me, you'll want to warm up. Go. Take your brothers." He followed only a few steps behind to get the water started. Then it was off to the bedroom to trade his own wet things for a pair of sweatpants and a fresh t-shirt.

The storm outside continued to pummel the roof while he got all three boys somewhat successfully bathed and into pyjamas. By then, they were clamoring with hunger. Alexander's own stomach had rumbled once or twice, too.

"Hm. How about pizza?" he asked, knowing that the suggestion would meet universal acclaim. He instructed the older boys to attend to any homework they had while he went to the kitchen to dig up a flyer from the neighborhood pizzeria and place the order. Half an hour later, he was putting a generous tip in the hand of the delivery kid, who dashed back to his car using the insulated bag as protection from the rain.

"Does this mean we can eat in the family room?" Jaime asked as Alexander shut the door and then also closed the foyer door against the weather.

"Sure, why not. Don't tell Màmí, though. Bad enough I authorized pizza. Is your homework done?"

"Didn't have any. And Alex did his at aftercare."

"Then take this--it's hot! don't drop it--and I'll get paper plates and napkins." 

They watched a rerun of _M*A*S*H_ while they ate, then Alexander clicked the remote before the start of _Jeopardy_. 

"It's time to talk about the weekend," he said over the boys' protests.

"And why Mom went away in such a hurry?" Alejandro asked, with the tone of one seeking confirmation. He was hurtling toward young adulthood and it showed in the way he held himself, the way he spoke, ready to pinch-hit as a second parent to his brothers before he even knew what challenges they were facing.

"Yes." Alexander sat forward, pulling Juan into his lap a little. "So, overnight last night, your Uncle Brad and Aunt Beth were in a plane crash." He took care to say it gently, but without too much emotion. There was no point in sugar-coating it. Even at seven and nine, Jaime and Alex seemed to understand what he was saying. Only Juan needed more clarification.

"Are they okay?" the three-year-old asked. Alexander squeezed him for reassurance--his son's and his own.

"No, _chico_ , they're not. They died. Everyone on board died." 

"What's 'died'?" Juan pressed.

"Well, it means...in this case, it means they got hurt, so badly that their bodies couldn't keep going." What followed was ten more minutes to introduce the toddler to the concept of life and death--aided and hindered in equal measure by the older boys' input.

"So they're in heaven?" Juan wanted to know once he understood.

Alexander took a deep breath. "Sure," he allowed. He wished he could summon the conviction that he knew Eliza would display if Juan had asked her the same question. To forestall the inevitable fifty "Whys" that he suspected would follow, he plowed on. "Màmí's gone to get your Cousin Philip from his school, and tell him the bad news, and bring him to Albany. We're going to join everyone this weekend and figure out who's going to take care of Philip from now on."

"Is Phil coming here?" Jaime asked immediately. 

"We don't know yet. It's too soon to say what's going to happen."

"But if he does, he could sleep in our room," Jaime offered. He looked to his older brother for agreement.

"Or maybe I could get my own room?" Alex, Jr. was quick to suggest instead.

"Whoa. Before anyone talks about getting his own room, or adding someone to a room, we're going to find out what the family wants to do. Your Uncle probably left a will or something and we'll need to read it to find out what provision he left for your cousin. And let's not forget that your Mama lost a brother, and Philip lost his parents, okay? So maybe a little less excited about the whole deal?"

"Sorry, Pops," the two chorused. 

Juan, meanwhile, had cuddled close into Alexander's side. "You and Màmí aren't going to die, are you?" he asked. 

" _Ay, mijo_ , you don't have to worry about that. Not for a very long time, I hope. Anyway, that's why we're on our own for a bit. Any...other questions?"

"Yeah, I have one," Alex said. "Can we watch Wings?"

"Sure." Alexander didn't know whether to feel relieved or annoyed that they were so easily satisfied.

 

~

 

As if on cue, the phone rang just as the episode ended and previews for next week began. "That's probably Màmí," Alexander pronounced, as Alejandro raced to the master bedroom where the upstairs phone lived. Alexander turned off the TV and patted Juan to get him to move, and the two of them and Jaime followed. 

"It's Mom," Alex confirmed when they entered. "No, we had pizza," he said into the phone. "Yeah, I did my homework. Jay didn't have any. Okay." He held out the receiver to Jaime. "Your turn."

"Go brush your teeth," Alexander said to his namesake.

"Mom isn't happy you got pizza."

"Yeah, _gracias, traidor_." Alex just grinned at him. "Go on, get."

Juan, meanwhile, had climbed onto the mattress and was reaching for the phone. "I wanna talk to Mama!"

"Not done, jeez!" Jaime whined. Then, guiltily into the phone: "Yes, Màmí." He surrendered the receiver with a dark look at his father. 

Alexander shrugged at him. "You're the one who got shirty, _mijo_." He repeated his instruction to brush teeth. With Jay off to the bathroom, Alexander sat next to Juan on the bed.

Juan babbled away, telling the story of their trek home through the rainstorm. "And then we had pizza and watched TV."

Alexander could just hear Eliza's response through the phone, and made a grab before Juan could answer her. "Hi, it's me and no, not at the same time, Bets. Of course not!"

"Liar," she laughed. "I'm gone for one day and you're eating junk food in front of the TV."

"Oh, come on, pizza once in a blue moon isn't going to hurt them. We're fine, _cara me_. Everything's under control."

"Under control, eh? Juan should have been in bed an hour ago. You're going to have your hands full tomorrow when he's overtired." She chuckled again and sighed, growing more serious. "What's your plan for the rest of the week?"

Juan interrupted. "Daddy, can I sleep in here tonight?"

"Oh, mm...yes, but shh, now, go and brush your teeth. Alex will help you."

"Alexander. Your plan."

Alexander knew better than to ignore Eliza when her tone had that much steel in it. He quickly ran through his itinerary for the rest of the week, now considerably lighter thanks to Maria. "Is Philip with you now?" he asked when she indicated approval of his schedule.

"He's in the bath," Eliza said. "We'll head back to the car rental tomorrow. They said they could call us a taxi to get to the station."

"How's he doing?"

"About what you'd expect. Withdrawn. I think he's still in shock right now. It hasn't hit him yet. Did you tell the boys?"

"Yes. Little mercenaries, they jumped forward about twenty steps and they've already got the house all rearranged. Alex gets his own room; Jay and Philip share; I don't know where we put Juanito but apparently we can pull another room out of the air."

She laughed once, but it was hollow. "It may come to that. I've been thinking. Mom and Dad can't raise an eight-year-old themselves, not with Dad's health and all. And Philip and Sarah--they're not going to be much help, I just know it. Peggy--well. Even if we can get a message to her, she's not cut out for taking care of a little boy." Her voice cracked just a touch, indicating how hard it was for her to criticize her sister. "And Angelica would be wonderful, but she won't want to uproot him all the way to England. Besides, she and John want their own, you know? So...maybe we really are the best choice."

"And if we are, _cara_ , we'll figure it out, but why am I the only person here who keeps telling everyone to slow down? Did Brad leave a will?"

"I don't know."

"Neither do I, but if he did, then you can bet it includes some provision for Philip. Anyway, even if we did take custody, I don't want to throw him in city schools a month before the term's over, with holidays coming up. It might be better to let him finish out the school year where he is."

"No, you're right. I'm just thinking out loud."

" _Yo se_. Betsey, it's gonna be okay. _Te amo_."

"You, too. Listen.... Are you all right with all this?"

"With the boys? Yeah, fine. I'm not hopeless, you know."

"No, I mean--Philip losing his parents. It's not--bringing up any unpleasant memories? And if the boys have questions, you'll…."

"I'm not going to scar them for life with my sob story, Bets. It's okay." He meant to say it lightly, humourously, but the words came out much harsher than he'd expected. 

She seemed about to say something else, but at that moment he was saved. The boys all trooped back in from the bathroom, so Alexander handed the phone off for Eliza to bid them their goodnights, one by one. Lightning flashed outside. Jaime looked out the window and nervously counted past five before they heard the answering rumble of thunder.

"Papí," Alejandro held out the phone.

He accepted the receiver again. "Okay," he said to Alejandro and the others, "Boys, bed. Juan, go get your book and we'll read in here. I'm back," Alexander said to Eliza when he was alone. "Look, I should…."

"Yeah, I should check on Philip, too."

"Call me tomorrow when you have your train information."

"All right. Sarah's going to pick us up, so I have to call her, too."

They bade each other goodnight. Alexander rested his forehead on the back of his hand, receiver dangling, for a moment before hanging it up. The crash hadn't brought up bad memories, really, but a certain amount of introspection was inevitable. He pushed past it, as he always did, in order to do what had to be done. 

What had to be done right now was tuck in the older boys and read to Juan before lights out. Before he could rise, however, they all came tumbling in toward him. Outside, there was a brilliant flash of lightning.

"Juan says we can sleep in here," said Jaime, bounding up on the mattress. "Can we, really?"

"You _all_ want to sleep in here--why?" Alexander asked in confusion.

In answer, a particularly spectacular boom of thunder followed the lightning strike. The boys jumped onto the bed.

"That's why," Jaime said.

" _Oye, mijos_ , this is just a little rainstorm. You know, your pop survived a hurricane once; this is nothing…." Nonetheless, he got them settled and tucked, and read to them all from Alejandro's chapter book, bestowed kisses and promises to come back and check on them, and then clicked off the light. In five minutes, they had sprawled so much that Alexander wasn't sure exactly how _he_ was going to sleep in the same bed, himself, but that was a problem for later. He put in his usual three or four hours of work at home, came back up to the family room, and clicked on the news for a little while before tackling it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**  
>  es familia - It's family  
> Bà-Bà - Daddy  
> bǎobǎo - baby  
> cabròn - asshole  
> ¡Vamos, mijos! - Go, boys!  
> chaval - buddy (kid)  
> Ay, mijo - Oh, son  
> gracias, traidor - thanks, traitor  
> cara me - darling  
> cara - dear  
> Yo se - I know  
> Te amo - I love you  
> Oye mijos - Hey, boys


	2. Albany

The rest of the week passed in a blur of work and parenting. Eliza called from the station in Concord and again when she reached Albany, promising to call back once she and Philip had seen her parents and the rest of the family. 

On Thursday, Maria found Peggy's last known number. Alexander punched it in without hesitation. A man answered; Alexander gave his name and asked if the man knew Peggy Schuyler.

"Sure, but she skipped out about a month ago," said the guy. His voice was deep and a little slick. It put Alexander in mind of a grifter. "Still owes me her half of the rent, too."

Alexander let the guy's claim stand unaddressed for the moment. "Do you know where she planned to go?"

"Shee-it," he swore, drawing it out into several syllables. "Nah, man, and if I did, I'd've found her my own damn self. That's a lot of money she owe me."

"Uh-huh," Alexander grunted. He let his accent out a little as they continued to talk. "So, uh, how much money, exactly…." Alexander asked, already guessing the rest of the conversation.

"Three--uh, five hundred dollars."

Though the man couldn't see him, Alexander nodded. The inflation wasn't unexpected at all, but the dude wasn't the only one who could grift. He whistled low into the phone. "You're right, _Esse_ ; that's a lot of money. ¿ _Eso es mala suerte, vato, que non_? And you've got no idea where she took off to, eh?"

"Like I said. Bitch done run out."

Alexander imagined punching the guy's face, but he was careful not to let his disgust come through in his voice. "Yeah, I feel ya. Well, sorry to trouble you, homes, thanks for your--"

"Well, hang on a sec. If you was to help me get that back rent, bro, maybe I know a friend a hers knows where she at."

"Yeah, I'd love to help you out, _Esse_ , but, um, you know, this rent," Alexander leaned on the word euphemistically. " _Mira_ , you got a lease or something you could show me? A receipt or like a bank statement with the check number? Anything to prove how much you paid and how much she paid? Know w'I'm sayin, homes?"

"Aw, man, fuck you." The guy hung up--not unexpectedly. Alexander returned the sentiment to the dial tone and buzzed Maria's desk.

"You were on there for a while: Any luck?" Maria asked when she picked up.

"Nope. Just a grade-A dickwad lodged in her apartment. Probably illegally, too, but that's another problem for another day. What an asshole. Did you have a record for her last employer?"

"Yes. Hang on." He heard typing and the clicking of the mouse. "Looks like she was working as a croupier in Vegas from 1994 to 1995 and then…. Got it! Try Bally's." She rattled off a number.

"You're a miracle."

"Don't say that yet--wait 'til you get hold of her."

Alexander laughed. "No, too late: I refuse to believe otherwise." He dialed the new number, and after being placed on hold three times, got connected to a manager from the gaming floor. When he explained he was looking for Peggy, the manager grumbled. 

"Employees are not supposed to receive personal calls while they're on the floor," he muttered.

"So, she's there? Look, I'm not trying to disrupt your business, sir, but it's urgent. I'm her brother-in-law. There's been a family emergency and we need to reach her. Could you ask her to call me on her next break?" 

"Oh. Sorry," he said automatically, without meaning it in the slightest. "Yeah, okay, if it's just this once. We're not an answering service, you know."

"I appreciate it." Alexander gave the man his name again, and his numbers, and extracted a promise to pass on the message.

Barely ten minutes later, Maria buzzed him. "Your sister-in-law's on two," she said. He stammered out a thank-you and selected the line.

"That was fast--Peggy?" he said.

"No, it's...Ange. Oh my god, Alex, did you find her?"

"I think so, but--Ange," he greeted her, switching gears. "Hey. How're you doing?"

"They're still...sorting out body parts." She laughed nervously. "Gross, right? But that's basically what they said. I thought I'd call you before talking to Dad again."

"No, that's all right, good thinking. Eliza's there now with Philip, so, we've been checking in twice a day. I can coordinate for you here if you want, pass on anything. Reduce the international calls."

"Oh, it's okay. John's got unlimited global, anyway." 

"You sound tired."

"I'm--tired, yeah," she agreed with another borderline hysterical laugh. "That's one word for it."

Alexander licked his lips, treading carefully as always where Angelica was concerned. If she hadn't already been married when they met--if he hadn't already been acquainted with Eliza at the time--but they'd agreed, a long, long time ago, that the best course was to completely ignore any possible alternatives in favor of the bond they shared as brother and sister. And nothing more.

" _Tu peux le faire, nena_ ," he said softly. "You got this."

"No, I don't." He could hear her sniff and knew from the thickness in her voice that she had begun to cry. "I can't. We both know Lizzie's the strong one. I'm just--alone and--Oh, Alex, I wish you could come out here. I don't know what I'm doing. And John--John's wonderful, really, he's been so fantastic with the airline people and the authorities, you've no idea--but…."

"Ange. _Escúchame._ Listen to me. You don't have to be strong to get through this. Brad was--well, he was sort of a dick, if I'm honest, but he was your little brother. You think Eliza's strong? She blubbered at me for half an hour last night. It's okay to fall apart."

"Not according to some people," said Angelica darkly.

"Fuck that British stiff-upper-lip bullshit," Alexander told her. "Who won the Revolution? We did, so they can just fuck off."

She laughed, but he could tell she was still crying.

"Serious, Ange. You want to scream and tear your hair? Rend your clothes? Go for it. You need to go find the nearest McDonald's and wallow in Big Mac comfort food? Walk in proudly, hand over your five-pound note, and chow down. Whatever you need."

"I needed to talk to you," she choked out. 

"Well, you got me, _Ángel_. Anytime." He swallowed, aware that there was more than one way to take his statement. No. There was really only one way she _could_ take it, because nothing else would do.

"Thank you." He heard noises of more sniffing and sighing, but now it was of someone pulling it together. When next she spoke, she was all business again. "So, where's Peggy this time?"

"Croupier at Bally's. Spoke to what I can only assume is an ex-boyfriend--total prick--sounds like she moved out in a hurry. But if she's working, then at least--"

"Alex, you've just _got_ to get her to come home." Angelica used her Voice of Command, but it was tinged with desperation.

"I haven't even talked to her yet, Ange, gimme a chance, okay?"

"Okay. Sorry." She let out a ragged breath. 

"S'all right. Hang in there--sis." He added the word, almost more as a reminder to himself than to her, but she caught it for the slow pitch it was meant to be.

"Alex, I--"

"Honey, I should go," he said to cut off her further apologies or thanks. He didn't want either. "Look, I'm leaving at noon tomorrow, pulling the boys out of school early and we're going up to your folks'. But I'll have the cellular phone if you need me, or if anything changes. And we'll be at your parents' place by suppertime, okay?"

"Okay. Give my love to Lizzie?"

"Sure thing."

"Save a little for yourself. Toodle-pip," she concluded with false cheeriness.

" _Adios, cara, hasta luego_ ," said Alexander, hanging up quickly. Then he cursed himself, in a mix of Spanish and French, for a good five minutes. _She's your sister-in-law_ , he told himself firmly. _And she's married. And she's in distress. And you love your wife way too much to fuck that up. In any way. Fuck._ He could chalk it up to missing Eliza, wanting to comfort Angelica, any number of things--but he still reminded himself to be extra careful once the family reunited.

The phone rang again--an outside line, this time, and an outside area code. He answered.

"Alexander?" came a tentative voice.

"Peggy? Pegs, _ay, Dio_ , it's good to hear you. How are you--Are you all right?"

"I'm on _break_ ," she said tightly. "I _was_ gonna go have a smoke, but my manager said I needed to call you. What's wrong?"

Her question was so direct that it made Alexander pause a moment. She sounded much more angry than concerned. "Uh, well…. What else did your manager tell you?"

"Not a damn thing, but if you tracked me down it's got to be dire. So. Who died?" She asked it jokingly, but with an edge to it.

"Brad and Beth," he said, just as bluntly.

"Yeah, right. Wait. Really? Oh. OH." She let forth a few phrases of Chinese, but the only word Alexander could understand was " _Tāmade!_ "

"It was a plane crash, two days ago," Alexander told her without waiting to be asked. "Pegs. You have to come home, hon."

"Oh, my God. You're not kidding, are you?" She added quietly, "They're really dead?"

"I'm not kidding, sweetie. They were on their way to Europe. Angelica and John are dealing with the authorities over there, but we're getting everyone to Albany as soon as possible…. Pegs. Are you in trouble?"

"I'm--I'm clean," she said immediately. "But, Alex, I can't."

"Yes, you can. Look. I called your old number; some asshole answered, said you owed rent."

"That asshole was making me bankroll his coke," she began.

"Okay, okay, you don't have to explain," Alexander told her. "I don't care about that and neither will Philip and Cathy. My point is, I can buy your plane ticket if you need the airfare. Just promise that if I do, you'll get on the flight."

"Does it occur to you that I disappeared because didn't _want_ to be found?" she snapped, and immediately apologized. In a much quieter, smaller voice, she said: "I don't want them to see me like this."

"Peggy, I swear to you, whatever's going on--they'll still love you; they just want to see you." He softened his tone. "Just come home, Pegs. We'll worry about everything else after."

There was a pause. Then: "I might lose my job."

"Bullshit. Your brother-in-law's a gifted attorney, remember?" He waited for her answering snort. "Tell your manager you need an emergency family leave for a week or two. Make him start the paperwork. That will give us time to collect the documents you need. Meanwhile, go home, pack a bag, and go to the airport. What's your number?"

"I've been staying with my girlfriend…." Peggy gave him her contact info. He wasn't sure if she meant "girl" who was a "friend" or something more, but that, too, did not matter for the present.

"Okay. Peggy, I'm going to get you a plane ticket out of McCarran tonight. Can your friend drive you? Do you need me to wire cab fare?"

"No. I can get a ride."

"Good. How much longer is your shift?"

"Six hours."

"Tell your boss you're leaving early so you can get home to pack. Anything you don't have, Eliza can take you shopping. Okay?"

"You make it sound simple, Alex, but--"

"It _is_ simple, Pegs. _C'est la famille, non?_ I promise it'll be all right."

"O...okay," Peggy sighed. "Okay, I'll come."

"Do you want me to talk to your manager?"

She hesitated. "No, I--I can handle it. I think."

"Pegs." He tried to sound more encouraging and less judgmental, but he was struck by how similar the conversation was to his frequent talks with Johnny about overcoming all his toddler fears.

"Fine, okay. I can do it."

" _¡Vale! Eso es mi tía_. I'll call you at your friend's with the flight information. And Peggy?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't disappear on me again."

She snorted. "I'll try. Thank you, Alex."

After hanging up, Alexander crossed to his bar. He poured himself a small drink. He brought it back to the desk and dialed the Schuyler home. It was time to update Eliza and find out her status.

 

~

 

The Taconic Expressway from New York to Albany offered beautiful scenery, historic landmarks, and a modicum of services. On an ordinary day, without too much traffic, one could make the trip in about three hours. Driving it with three children, however, made it a little more challenging.

Particularly when the route had come to a standstill because of an accident, with no way to get around it. To top that off, they had gotten behind schedule before they had even left town. (It was Alexander's own fault, he kept reminding himself; he'd forgotten to look at what the boys packed and they'd had to stop at home to redo it all before setting out. He tried not to be testy with his sons, but they seemed determined to push his limits.)

They pulled in to the Schuyler house (mansion, more properly) almost three hours later than Alexander planned. He'd hoped to get there with enough time to unload, unpack, and maybe let the kids run around in the backyard a bit before dark, and instead they would be pulling in well after Catherine would normally serve dinner. He wondered self-reproachfully if she wasn't holding the meal for everyone. He figured they'd gone ahead, but he hoped that she'd saved them enough to eat, and hadn't assumed they would grab food on the road. The boys were starving, but he'd refused to make another stop, even for fries to tide them over, knowing that it would spoil their appetites and that every rest stop meant adding half an hour to get them all out and served and toileted and resettled to ride. His own stomach was complaining by the time he guided the car up the long driveway to his in-laws' home. Eliza came out to meet them and Alexander marveled at how her arms seemed to stretch in order to enfold all three of her boys in a single embrace. "I've missed you so much!" she said to them, scooping Johnny into her arms and planting big kisses on Jay's and Alex, Jr.'s heads. Then she smiled at Alexander and the sun, which had already set, reversed its track in the sky. 

"And as for you," she said throatily, "Bà-Bà officially thinks you walk on water."

"Didn't he already think that?" Alexander quipped while he closed in for a deep, satisfying kiss.

"Hm. Sometimes I think you married me for my family." 

"I did! But not _just_ for them." Their sons were making faces at one another as a commentary on how gross their parents were, but Alexander kept his arms around her and said quietly: "I take it Peggy made it?"

"She did. Red-eye, but she's here. She slept most of the day." Her eyes darted to the boys as if to tell him to set the topic aside for now.

"Let me get our bags," he said instead, breaking away. "Alex, help the old man, _chico_."

"I wanna help!" Jay said, so Alexander opened the trunk and pulled out their suitcases, along with his carry-on and a folding garment bag with his extra suit. Laden with the baggage, they crossed the driveway into the big, welcomingly lit manor house.

Even in unfortunate circumstances, Schuyler family reunions were loud affairs. Catherine and Philip were in the hallway, flanked by three of Eliza's four remaining siblings: another Philip, Peggy, and little Kitty, who was only 16. Like Eliza, Kitty took after Catherine, with delicate Mandarin features and only a hint of her father's heritage. The two Philips, Junior and Senior, were large and tall with skin the color of milk chocolate, though Eliza's father was stout compared to his son's trim frame. The elder Philip also leaned heavily on a walking cane. Sarah, Philip Jr.'s wife, stood slightly to the side, her expression pinched, twisting a lock of her bottle-blonde hair around one finger, while the family hugged and shed some more tears and fussed over the size of the grandchildren. The third and youngest Philip was on the stairs, pale and quiet, also holding himself apart.

"Phil, come say hello to your cousins," Eliza coaxed after the excitement subsided. "They came all the way from New York." He drifted toward her beckoning hand, a reluctant animal sniffing out the proferred food from its master. "Do you remember Alex and Jay?"

Philip nodded. "Christmas," he muttered, barely audible.

"Yeah, you got that Sega system," Alex, Jr. said, with only a hint of admonishment to his own parents. "Still have it?"

Philip only shrugged. Not one to show much patience, Alex, Jr. turned to his mother. "We're _starving_ , Mom. Dad wouldn't get us McDonald's."

"Good for Dad," Eliza answered, which was probably not what her son expected her to say.

"We had to eat already, but I kept things warm for you," Catherine said sedately.

"I could stand some dessert if-" Eliza's father began.

"Philip, your blood pressure," warned Catherine, on her way to the kitchen. "The last thing you need is more carbohydrates."

Philip caught Alexander's eye. "You see what you're in for, my boy," he said affectionately. He moved toward the dining room, anyway, slowly.

"Eliza's already more than a match for me, sir," Alexander answered as he fell into step. "I knew I was marrying a nurse--and a field marshal, on top of that. Which is good because these little _guerrillas_ present one heck of a challenging army." He looked at Catherine apologetically. "That's why we're so much later than I'd planned."

"Not to worry," said Philip. "I think Cathy would get up at midnight to cook if that's when her grandsons got here."

"Phil, do you want to sit with us during dinner?" Eliza asked the youngster behind them. "You hardly ate before. You must be hungry."

"No."

"Not even for chocolate cake?" Alexander turned to watch. Eliza's tone verged on pleading.

"There's chocolate cake?" Jay asked, pricking up his ears. "Can we have cake, too?"

If she'd been solicitous of Philip, she gave her own child no such quarter. "Dinner first."

"But--"

"Jaime, _escuchar a su madre; no ser grosero_." Alexander spoke more sharply than he'd intended, but it stopped the other in his tracks. "Go sit at the table and pretend to be civilized."

" _Sí, Papi_ ," Jay replied. He grabbed Johnny's hand and dragged him along, too. To the other's whine of protest, he growled, "Don't be rude," echoing his father's rebuke.

Philip had looked up when Alexander spoke, eyes wide. He came out of himself a little, but as Alexander stepped toward him, he shrank back toward Eliza. "May I go back to my room?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

"All right, if you like," she said. Alexander could hear her heartbreak. When Philip had turned the corner on the stairs, she looked back at Alexander sadly and shook her head. "He's been like that all week. See what I mean? Shock."

"Give him time. Is he eating at all?"

"Barely, but yes. I got him to drink one of Dad's breakfast shakes this morning, and he had a banana with peanut butter for lunch. Then five or six bites of dinner."

"Well, it's something. He'll be all right."

Peggy had also hung back as the others either went to the dining room or back to what they'd been doing. Alexander could see why Eliza was worried: she looked gaunt, hollow. Her normally café-au-lait skin had a greyish, sallow tinge, and her eyes were sunk in their sockets. She looked like she'd been using, despite her assurances that she wasn't.

"Alex, can I--"

"Yeah. Let's use the library." 

"No, you must be hungry. I can wait til you've eaten."

"I'm fine, Pegs. I'm more worried about you right now."

They went into the library, a room with dark paneled built-in bookcases along three walls, and tall latticed windows on the fourth. Peggy headed straight to the windowseat, but paced along it instead of sitting. Alexander perched on the arm of one of the two sofas that faced each other on either side of the room. "You said you were clean," Alexander commented, "So what's going on?"

"I, uh...it's not drugs."

He nodded. "Let's say I believe you. What is it?"

"Don't tell Lizzie?" she asked.

"Pegs, c'mon. What. Is. Wrong."

"I'm--I have--I'm not a croupier. Well, I _am_ , but I'm trying to get hired as one of the dancers. I'm already a bit old for it, but…It's mostly just walking around, anyway. Only I had to lose 75 pounds to qualify." She drifted toward the sitting area. "I'm almost there."

"So you're starving yourself?"

She winced. "If I don't, I won't get the job."

"Then screw the job."

"See," she said, throwing her hands up, and arcing back to the window, "I knew no one would understand. You promised no one would judge me and that's all everyone's done since I landed this morning."

"Well, Jesus, Peggy, you look like a concentration camp victim. Is it really worth this?" She rolled her eyes at him and fixed her gaze out the window. More gently, he continued: "What are you taking?"

She snarled back at him. "I said I'm not--"

"For the weight loss," he emphasized. "What are you using?"

She rattled off a combination of nutrition supplements, "fat burner" pills, and something that sounded suspiciously like an emphetamine. 

"Are you doing this under supervision by anyone? A doctor or a nutritionist?"

Peggy squirmed and shook her head.

"What did Eliza say about it?"

"Lizzie? She--she's been concerned about Phil. But whenever she looks at me, I can tell she doesn't get it, either."

"Peggy. She's a nurse. She sees you killing yourself from the inside out."

"I'm fine." Peggy flared her nostrils. "This is why I knew it was a mistake to come home! I mean, it's good to see Daddy, and all, but--I can't do this. I knew you would all gang up on me. Turning Brad's death into a reason to browbeat me into coming back, just so everyone can cluck about how I'm ruining my life. I should have told you to butt the fuck out. God, I need a cigarette."

Alexander began to regret not waiting until he'd had a meal. He took a breath and expelled it noisily, cheeks puffed. "You're right. We're here because of Brad, not to pull some intervention crap on you. You're right, Pegs, it's your life. If you want to live it out in Las fucking Vegas, that's fine. That doesn't mean we don't get to care about you, _chica_ , but whatever's going on with you can wait, if you want us to leave you alone. Is that what you want?"

Peggy flopped dramatically onto the opposite sofa from Alexander. "I don't know. Yes. I want to make my own choices."

"Okay. Well, _I_ want to eat some of your mother's cooking before I chew my own damn arm off." He stood up to offer her a hand. "I'll talk to Eliza about backing off, okay? One family drama at a time."

"What about Daddy? And Angie--I know she's gonna--"

"Let me worry about your dad and Angelica," Alexander heard himself saying. How was it that whenever he got around the Schuyler sisters, he wound up feeling like Michael Corleone? The family was big, rich, and for values of influential, pretty powerful upstate. But somehow, whenever he arrived on the scene, they swooped in on him to take on and solve their problems. The comparison even came complete with disgruntled brother-figures lurking behind him incompetently and impotently, like his own version of 'Fredo. "Let's just wait 'til she gets here and we've had time to bury your brother before you go running back out west?" 

"Okay."

"And Pegs? If you want to go for this, this, emaciated waif look, that's your business, but please, can you let us arrange for you to do it with a qualified nutritionist?"

Peggy muttered under her breath. Alexander slid into the seat next to her.

"Sorry, was that 'Fuck off' I heard or--"

"I said I can't afford that," she bit out through gritted teeth.

"Well, the family can. Please, do this for me, _hermanita_? You see how your sisters are carrying on about Brad--imagine what I'd have to deal with if they lost a sibling they actually _like_." He ducked his head below hers, enough to see her grudging smile.

"You shouldn't malign the dead, you know," she said wryly.

"Yeah, well. Maybe if he hadn't maligned me so much when Bets and I got engaged, I would be more respectful. Hey. Pegs, it's gonna be okay." He nudged her shoulder gently, and she leaned into him so he could embrace her. Her arms around his waist felt as thin as twigs. 

"Okay," he said, rubbing her shoulder under his hand, trying not to think of how bony and sharp her body was. "So you can stay here or go to your old room or come in the dining room and watch me devour whatever your mom cooked, but I'mma go eat."

 

~

 

After supper, Eliza and Catherine took charge of putting the boys to bed. The elder Philip had given up his cane in favor of a walker with wheels and a fold-down seat. He was clearly tired, but not quite done for the night. "Alexander," said his father-in-law, "come into my office and have a drink before you head up."

"Yes, sir, of course," Alexander answered, happily enough considering that he knew the elder Philip wanted a report. The younger Philip scowled at Alexander as he crossed the hallway. "You should come with us, Phil," Alexander told him. "I'm sure you'll want to hear the conversation."

"How is it that you seem to run this family whenever you're around?" Philip grumbled at him.

"I dunno, Phil, I thought your father ran it. If anything, I'm just consigliere." He carefully did not give voice to his less charitable thought, _Maybe because I give a shit_. There Phil was, doing his 'Fredo act without even an ounce of self-awareness. Alexander had been up since six, he'd put in a packed morning at the office, he'd been delayed leaving town, he'd had a three-hour drive turn into a five-hour one, and he was trying to deal with not one, but three different kinds of family dramas which had hit him upside the head the moment he'd arrived. He wasn't in any mood to be polite. On the other hand, picking a fight probably wasn't the best, most mature way to handle the younger man. So when he reached the door, he turned and simply said, "Coming?"

Philip seethed for a moment, staring daggers at Alexander. Then he petulantly turned away, down the hall toward the stairs to the family room on the lower level. With a sigh, Alexander went into Philip's study.

"Well, Phil still hates me," he observed casually as he shut the door. "Good to know some things never change."

"Are you surprised? I love my sons--" his voice caught and he corrected, "my son, Alex, but I don't think he'll ever forgive you for making his favorite sister fall in love with you." He fell silent for a moment. The brief clouding of his eyes cleared, the only sign of grief over Brad that he allowed to show. "What's more, Angie and Peggy look up to you, too. I don't know; maybe if the boys had been born first, things would be different. But I know my girls and they'll all be damned if they'd go to either of their little brothers for help."

"They don't come to me, either, sir--normally, that is. You've raised three fierce, independent women."

"Hmpf. They choose you before me, seems like."

"Well--I'm not their father," Alexander pointed out.

"Hm. Alex, is Peggy on drugs?" Philip asked curtly.

Alexander blinked, but not because he wasn't expecting the question. "I don't think so, not exactly. She's definitely taking some bad chemistry, but if she's telling the truth, then there's only one drug in the cocktail she's on--and it's pharmaceutical, not recreational. The rest are just crackpot weight loss formulas."

"Anorexia? Bulimia?" He wheeled over to the bar and poured out two glasses of Scotch.

"I'm...not qualified to say. Should you be drinking on your blood pressure meds?"

"I'm allowed one a day," Philip assured him. "Waited for you."

"I appreciate that," Alexander said, smiling. They touched their glasses and sipped, then Alexander put his glass down. "Let me help you." He pushed the walker back to the sitting area by a cozy, if unlit, fireplace.

"I'm saying, Alexander, that I think of you as my own son. And the girls--well, except Lizzie, of course--think of you as a real brother. I know I failed Brad in...a lot of ways. Phil and Peggy too, probably. But I don't want to fail my grandson."

Alexander felt a tightness at the back of his throat. "I don't see how you can fail, sir," he said earnestly. "You're here for him now. No matter what, he'll have a roof and an education, and he'll know he's cared for. Still, Brad and Beth were awfully young…. Did they leave wills?"

"Yes. He and Beth made them out when Phil was born. I talked to his attorney's office earlier today; they've received confirmation from the airline that Brad and Beth were on the flight, so they're willing to talk to us now. Oh, and Beth's parents are on their way in, too, by the way. Cathy told them we'd put them up here, though I'm not sure where…"

"Well, the boys can all stay in a single room. Or Johnny can bunk in with us, he'll love that anyway. We'll make it work." He chose not to mention that many people made do with far less than a 12-room mansion. "Doesn't the family room have a pullout?"

"Cathy will figure it out," Philip said with an unconcerned shrug. "I'm more concerned with what we do _after_ the funerals are over."

Alexander nodded. "That's why we need the wills read," he said, feeling a bit like a broken record.

"Tell me something, if you don't mind: Your half-brother claimed everything, after your mother passed. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, that's right. He found a loophole in Mom's co-sign on her store."

"And when your cousin Peter, er, died, his will left everything to his…."

"Mistress," Alexander supplied. "Girlfriend. Mistress. Domestic partner," he shrugged, as if to indicate that the semantics didn't matter. "Her and their son."

"But he was supposed to include something for you, that's what you told Lizzie?" Philip was clearly worried about something. "Do you think it was an oversight or a mistake, or a deliberate slight?"

Alexander studied his Scotch as he answered. "I think…. I think the attorney he went to was a snake. I think he didn't make any of the changes that Peter asked for, or he dragged his feet. Maybe he figured Jimmy and I would be better off in the system--especially Jimmy, considering. Or maybe Peter was worried there wouldn't be enough for Ledja and the boy if he wrote me and Jimmy into it, too." He stood up and crossed to the fireplace as he grew more agitated. "Maybe he was just too damn cowardly to deal with us. And maybe the same thing that overwhelmed him to the point where he killed himself prevented him from making the choices that would have provided for us. I don't know." He took a sip of his drink to wash down the taste of injustice. "But intentional or not, that was our luck back then. And what happened--well, it happened." He came to sit again. "But we're talking about Brad, and whatever else I might have thought of him, he was a man who specifically had a will made when his son was born. That counts for something. And Philip was their only child; even if they left everything to Beth's folks, they'd turn round and do the right thing by him. And so would you, if it's all in your name."

"I want to make sure the boy has a trust fund, at the least," Philip mused. "It must be surreal for you to compare his situation to your own back then."

Alexander shrugged. "Mine's the past. The boy's is now. You know I'll help in any way I can."

"That's good to hear." Philip sighed heavily. "I think tomorrow we should see if we can help Angelica."

"I think we should tell her and John to come over, actually. It could be weeks before the remains are released."

Philip's face blanched. "Hold a memorial now, you mean? And--"

"And worry about the burials later. Yes, sir. It's better to get on with things. You don't want everyone in limbo for who knows how long. What's the word the psychologists like to use? Closure. Give them some sense of closure. If and when the airline or the investigating agencies have anything for us later, we'll take that as it comes."

"Perhaps you're right. Cathy's much better than she was that first couple of days, but--she keeps having dreams about the plane crash. Imagining it. I thought we'd all feel better if we had--"

"You will. But forgive me, I don't think any of you are thinking all too clearly--and there's no reason you should be, sir. That's why I'm happy to take the reins, if you want. I'm not as...close to it."

"Yes."

"All right, then. Step one: we should all get some sleep. I'm exhausted; if I know you and Cathy you'd have both been in bed hours ago if you didn't have a house full of people. And the kids are gonna wake up early no matter how late we sit here sipping our Scotch."

 

~

 

As tired as he was, Alexander hadn't seen Eliza for three days, so when he got up to the room that had been hers growing up, they had a fair amount of catching up to do. And once they'd caught up, they had things to talk about.

"When you were young," Alexander asked, falling back onto the pillow, "did you ever sneak boys up here to make out?"

Eliza giggled. "My mother's Chinese; no, I never dared bring boys home." She threaded her fingers between his. "One time, though, Angelica let a boy in to the family room, through the French doors, you know? I guess she figured it was safe enough two floors away. Dad woke up in the middle of the night and decided to go down and watch some old war movie, and there's this teenager all splayed out on the leather sectional."

"Your father's not serving ten to life, so I assume he did not kill the kid," Alexander commented. He craned his neck to plant a lazy kiss over her bosom.

"You know Daddy. He drove the guy home. Then he came back and woke us all up, and drove us to the Maternity Ward at the women's detention center."

"Subtle," said Alexander sarcastically.

"Like a brick, our father," agreed Eliza. She ran her free hand over Alexander's scant chest hair. "Anyway. None of us wanted to risk another embarrassing field trip after that."

"Mm. Your father feels like he didn't do enough for Brad," he said to change the subject. "I can't begin to explain that he may have done too much for him. For all of you, in a way."

"We're all fairly spoiled, you mean," Eliza concluded.

"Not spoiled--I mean, you and Ange and Pegs were all clearly raised like princesses, but at least when I met you you'd outgrown your brat phase, if you ever had one. Phil and Brad, though…."

Eliza's eyes spilled over with tears. Alexander held her while the wave of grief crashed over her. "Sorry," she said, sniffling. "Sorry. I promised myself I wasn't going to--"

"It's all right, baby," he said. "Kinda surprised you waited this long."

"It's been okay--it's just--Oh, I'm just so glad you're up here now, and you can see for yourself."

"Yeah."

"At least you missed the worst of it. I hope. Mom and Dad are a lot better than they were Wednesday. Helps to get everyone here."

"Yeah." He said nothing more, but he figured that the "worst" was far from over, in ways they couldn't begin to predict. But Eliza didn't need to hear that now.

"Anyway. The thing is, Phil was different before Desert Storm," Eliza mused ruefully. "I mean, I know he was still a teen when you and I got married, but then he went into ROTC for school and--well, he's not the same. Damaged, I think."

"I get it, _cariña_ , but on the other hand, that was four years ago."

"You of all people should know sometimes it takes time," Eliza said simply. Her voice was soft and loving, but the rebuke still hit him hard.

"Yeah. Okay." He let his gaze drift to the floor.

"I'm sayin'. We don't all bury our traumas as _effectively_ as certain people," she continued.

"Ay, all right. I get it. I'll be--nicer," he chewed the word as if the vowels themselves were offensive.

" _Kinder_ ," Eliza clarified. "Be kinder, and more patient."

"Deal...if you do the same for Peggy."

Eliza stiffened. "That girl needs to grow up. She's 37, when's she gonna take responsibility--"

"She's 37, Bets, and she can make her own choices, even if they're bad ones."

"You see how she looks?"

"Hard to miss, unless she turned sideways. Ow," he rubbed his arm where she had smacked it. "Seriously, though, leave it alone for now. Stay focused on one thing."

"Little Phil."

"Yeah."

"Will _you_ talk to him? He needs someone like a father."

Alexander drew a sharp breath. He'd been half expecting her to request this, but dreading the moment when she did. "I think he's terrified of me. I don't know that my trying to talk to him is gonna help."

"That's nonsense. Why would he be frightened of you?"

Alexander shrugged. "Billion possible reasons. I don't know, but he is. But I'm too tired to worry about it now." He kissed her mouth briefly. "Let's get some sleep, okay?"

 

~

 

The next morning, Alexander set himself up in Philip's study so that he could keep in touch with the office. Although the partners were fully aware about the circumstances of his trip, the courts didn't grind to a halt without him. He fired off a few emails for Monday morning. Burr answered him within twenty minutes, with his usual economy: "Filing continuances for your pending briefs. Pls. send notes on plaintiff affidavit & team will review, delay actions until post-Thxgvng," etc. He wasn't surprised that Burr had taken on the additional workload, but he really wished Madison had been available instead. He promised to assemble the notes to go down by courier Monday, and asked Aaron to consult Jim on the key precedents.

Around ten o'clock, Philip held a quick family meeting for the adults. 

"I've been in touch with Brad's lawyer," he said to everyone, "and we can meet on Monday to hear his will. "Beth's parents are flying up today--"

"I can pick them up," Sarah volunteered.

"Thank you, Sarah, I'm sure that will be very helpful," Catherine said, patting her hand. 

"--And Catherine and I met with Shapiro and Sons on Thursday to go over the options," Philip continued, "but we want to wait on any decisions until her parents have arrived, of course."

"That's the funeral home?" Alexander asked, one eye on his computer.

"Yes." Philip sighed. "Also, I've had a call from someone from the airline. They want to come and talk to us this week about defraying some of the funeral costs. Alexander, I'm sure there's an insurance settlement on the table."

"We can talk about that with the probate lawyer Monday," Alexander said.

"I thought so, too. Now, we're planning to call Angelica; if anyone wants to stay and say hello…."

"The forecast says the storm system's blown out to the Atlantic; should be sunny the rest of the weekend. I'll take the boys out this afternoon," Phil said suddenly. "Toss the football. Something."

"Good idea," Eliza said immediately. "I think Philip would benefit from fresh air and sunshine."

They went over other plans, called Angelica, and resumed their waiting game. Alexander worked off the notes he'd stuffed into his bag before leaving the office, and tried to do his research using the pokey DSL connection, wishing for a T1 or the new cable Internet he'd just had installed at home. Eliza came to check on him and bring him lunch. "Mom figured everyone could fix their own sandwiches and stuff, whenever they're ready for it, but I knew you'd forget if I didn't bring you a plate." He grunted and muttered half-audible thanks. His fingers tapped the keyboard. "We're rearranging things a little for Beth's parents," she told him after a beat. "Juan's going to bunk with Alejandro and I'm putting Jaime and Philip together. I hope it'll be good for him."

"Probably good for them both," Alexander observed. At last he reached the end of his paragraph and looked away from the screen. "Oh, hello, you brought lunch!" he said, seeing the sandwich for the first time. He cracked his knuckles and stretched. Then his focus shifted wholly from his work to his wife. He pulled her into his lap and she circled her arms around his shoulders. " _Gracias, cariña_. You are the best of wives and women, did you know that?"

"Now that you mention it," Eliza agreed, smiling. "Are you going to go play wth the boys later?"

"No. Phil wants to do it; let him. It'll make him feel useful."

"That's just what I thought. Besides, I think he needs practice. Sarah says they're trying," she continued, making it clear that she was sharing a semi-confidence, "but that Phil's sometimes...a little funny about the idea. Kids."

"Lots of men are. They're not all prizes like me."

"Oh, and who says you're a prize?" asked Eliza with an arched eyebrow. "Three days alone and your meal choices were pizza, tacos, and spaghetti."

"Hey, if I'd had them to myself a fourth day, it would have been _huevos rancheros_ , without the _ranchero_."

"You're hopeless," she teased. But she leaned her forehead against his temple.

"No; our kids are kids. I wasn't gonna fix things I knew they'd fight me about eating. _Óralé_ , they all had lettuce on their tacos. I even managed to get Jaime to try a mushroom in the pasta sauce, so--we did okay."

"Hmph. I'm not sure what we're gonna do if--"

"If what?" he asked when she cut herself off.

"If...I go back to work full-time again. You know, once Juan's in kindergarten."

Alexander narrowed his eyes. "That's not what you were going to say. You haven't talked about going back full-time since Juan was a year old."

"Well, maybe it's time to think about it again." She planted her feet on the floor and pushed away. "Anyway, I should let you get back to work."

"Kiss me first," he pleaded, and drew her back in. It was nearly half an hour before they came up for air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Timeline Notes:** Someone asked in comments if this is still set in the '90s. It is--the events here begin approximately two years prior to the modern chapter of Rx4. As with Rx4, in general, I have moved the years of major historical events up by 200 years (so, replace 17xx with 19xx and it will at least be in the ballpark). SOME events are still different, with diverging timelines resulting, and SOME circumstances are different. Some actual dates (as in month and day, not year) have been adjusted for narrative necessity. So it's not a perfect transposition, but it's close. 
> 
> **Translations**  
>  I realized that the "mouseover" translations are not mobile-friendly. I will still do them, but I will put selected translations at the end of the chapters, too. Remember that Alexander often mixes Spanish and French, and several members of the Schuyler family speak Chinese (which I completely do not, so apologies for any errors!).
> 
> Esse - Dude (with gangster connotations)  
> Eso es mala suerte, vato, que non - That's bad luck man, ain't it  
> Mira - Look  
> Tu peux le faire, nena - You can do this, babe (Fr and Sp)  
> Tāmade - Shit (Ch.)  
> C'est la famille, non? - It's family, right?  
> ¡Vale! Eso es mi tía - Excellent! That's my girl  
> escuchar a su madre; no ser grosero - listen to your mother; don't be rude  
> hermanita - Sis (sister)


	3. The Wills

Grant and Linda Hunter, Beth's parents, were old Newport stock, pale and quiet among the bustling Schuyler household. It made for a rather awkward dinner, near the end of which Philip once again asked to be excused. He'd seemed pleased to see his other grandparents, but overwhelmed by the number of people crowded around the dinner table. Even Alexander found it a bit daunting. Including the kids, they were fourteen, a gathering most people only managed to assemble at holidays. When people met Alexander and discovered he was Latino despite the Scottish name, they tended to assume he came from a large family. Nothing could have been further from the case. So he was in equal measure happy to be surrounded by such a large and vibrant clan, and mystified at the chaos it usually created. He could understand Philip's reticence.

That night's meal boasted considerably less chaos and more tension than usual, but that made it no less noisy. When Philip left, his maternal grandmother tried to go after him, but returned soon after with a tearful shrug. "He's in front of the television downstairs," she said to Eliza. "I just don't know what to say to him."

Eliza shot a significant look at Alexander. He could hear her commentary without any sound. _You would know,_ she seemed to tell him.

After supper, Alexander went down with Alejandro, Jaime, and Juan, to check on the youngster. "We're gonna play Risk, wanna play?" Jaime asked guilelessly. 

Philip shook his head. "It's boring. Whoever gets Kamchatka just always wins." he answered. 

"It'll be fun," Alex, Jr. coaxed.

"Don't feel like it," Phil said moodily. He hopped off the couch. "Where's Aunt Eliza?" he asked.

"I think she and your grandmothers were--cleaning up," Alexander said. He did not add "with a fresh bottle of wine," but he knew that it had been on the menu.

Philip left without another word. Alexander shrugged at his own boys. " _Óralé, chavales,_ get set up, okay? I'll be right back."

"You want Australia?" Alex asked him, while Jaime whined, "You always say that and then--"

"I mean it, I'll be back. Alex, get Juan a coloring book or something, will you?"

As his eldest moved to comply, Alexander went back upstairs to the kitchen in search of Philip. He found him not at the rear of the house, but listening intently outside his grandfather's office. Alexander couldn't tell whether he'd come upstairs specifically to eavesdrop, or whether he'd been looking for his grandfather or simply wandering the halls, and happened upon the conversation. But there was no doubt that he could tell what they were discussing, and was straining to hear every word.

"Beth would have wanted us to take care of him, I'm sure," Grant's confident voice intoned through the door.

"He's got no shortage of volunteers, Grant. I'm saying, we just have to wait for the will."

"I don't have to wait to know that my grandson belongs with us."

"He's our grandson, too," came Philip's calmer, quieter reply.

"But he's our _only_ grandchild by our _only_ daughter. We can give him everything he could want."

"Oh. And we can't?"

"No, that's not what I--the point is that we can look after him exclusively. I'm retired, Linda's going to need something to...fill the void--it just makes sense and you know it. You and Catherine have your own brood, some of whom clearly still need parenting. You ought to focus on that. Whereas we will be focused on making sure Philip continues on the path his parents set him on."

"You know," Alexander said to announce himself, "listening at keyholes is a time-honored tradition. Sometimes it's the only way to find out what's really going on, eh?"

Even though he'd spoken softly, Alexander startled Philip badly enough to make him back into a side table. The vase on top of it rocked dangerously. Alexander darted forward to catch it, but water spilled out before he could right the crystal. 

"Whoops!" he said lightly, desperate to ease the look of abject terror in Philip's eyes. "Do me a favor and get a towel from the powder room, okay?"

Philip dashed off and for a moment, Alexander wasn't sure he'd return. But three seconds later he trotted up with a hand towel and mopped up the water. "Let's hope the finish isn't ruined," Alexander said, still with a companionable tone, "or I'll be in trouble with your grandma."

Philip backed away. "'M'I in trouble?" he asked anxiously.

"No, _muchacho_ , not at all." Alexander swiped the table once more and crouched down a bit to get on a level with Philip. The voices in the office rose as the two men inside argued, as only two men in pain and grief could argue. Philip flinched and fixed his attention on the door, and the conversation behind it. "They're not really angry with each other, you know that, right?" Alexander asked gently. "They're angry at the world. They're sad and angry about your mom and dad."

For a brief instant, Alexander thought Philip was about to rush forward into him. He would have gladly let the kid seek solace in an embrace, if only it would let him relieve some of the tension thrumming through him like an electric guitar set to full amperage. But his hope was short-lived. Instead of leaning into him, Philip backed up a step. "You don't know anything about being angry," he pronounced. The statement was solemn, not heated, and sad beyond the boy's years. He backed away more. "I have to find Aunt Lizzie." Then he backed up another step, turned, and ran down the hallway toward the kitchen.

Alexander sighed. Inside the study, the eldest Philip Schuyler seemed to have calmed Grant down; or at least, the volume had dropped considerably. He considered knocking, then thought of his promise to his own children downstairs, and chose in favor of the boys. If nothing else, playing a game with them would offer far simpler interaction than any other activity he could conceive for the time being.

 

~

 

"Pop?" The voice, and an accompanying insistent shake, dragged Alexander into consciousness. "Papi?"

He managed a grunt.

"C'n I sleep here with you?"

Still not quite awake, Alexander tried to figure out what the emergency was. The child was too old to be Juan, but too young to be Alejandro. "Jaime," he croaked. "'S'a'matter? 'S'not raining…."

"No," the boy admitted.

Grudgingly, Alexander rubbed his eyes until they would open. "You know, this bed's not like the one at home, _mijo_. There's barely room for me and Mamí. What's wrong, _chaval_? Didja have a bad dream?"

Jaime squirmed a little. "No…."

"Well, then--"

"I didn't. I think Philip's having one, though. I can't sleep in there with him."

Instantly, Alexander was more alert. "Okay," he said, twisting to throw his legs out of the bed and sit up. "You climb in." He rose and fumbled for his bathrobe.

"What about you, Papi?" Jaime squeaked.

"I'm gonna go check on Philip."

He settled Jaime next to Eliza, gave him a light kiss on the forehead, and made his way through the darkened house to the room Catherine had given the two boys.

Philip was, indeed, in the throes of some sort of nightmare. He thrashed and tossed on the mattress, whining in high-pitched wails. Alexander was surprised the boy hadn't thrown himself out of bed with his exertions. Paternal instinct took over as soon as he saw Philip's distress, though, and switching on the bedside lamp, he eased himself onto the bed. Rather than startle him awake, Alexander began to rock him gently and speak in soothing tones to calm Philip out of whatever fears were plaguing his sleep. He gathered the small body half in his lap, leaning awkwardly against the headboard. He touched Philip's forehead to check for fever, found it cool enough. He kept up a steady murmur in a mix of languages--Spanish, some French and some English--until Philip's torment subsided and he gradually grew still.

"That's it, _cher_ , calm down, _todo está bien_ , shh-sh-sh, _tu es sauf_ , it's okay…. There you go," Alexander said with relief, when he detected the loosening of Philip's limbs. "Philip?" he asked, more to check and make sure he was sleeping peacefully than to wake him now that the storm had passed. "Okay, buddy, let's get you tucked back in." 

But as he tried to shift Philip back onto his own pillow, the boy's eyes fluttered open. 

"Hey, _chaval_ , you had a--" Alexander started to say. He broke off when Philip, recognizing him, shoved back and away in terror. "Hey, whoa! Whoa, it's okay. Philip? You had a nightmare. Are you okay?" Alexander hitched backward on the mattress to give Philip room. "Hey, shh, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Philip shrank back in the bed and darted glances around the room. "Where's Jay?" he asked suspiciously.

"He went to sleep with me and his mother. He told me you were having a nightmare, so I came to check on you." Alexander stood up to give him even more room, suspicions of his own forming in his head. "Do you--do you want to tell me what you were dreaming about?"

Philip's eyes clouded. He bit his lip. "Don't remember," he said, which Alexander thought less than truthful. But he had no wish to spook the kid any further.

"Okay. Philip, are you nervous about something? Is it because you heard your grandfathers arguing earlier? You know, everyone in this family just wants whatever's best for you."

"I'm not scared," said Philip, in a tone that utterly confirmed the contrary.

"Well, it's okay if you are, or aren't. Or if you're worried, that's okay, too. It's understandable." Alexander patted the pillow. "Now, why not lie back down and see if you can get back to sleep?"

Philip didn't move. Alexander sighed and took a shot.

"Philip...earlier you said something about being angry. Was your..... Did your dad ever get really angry with you?" 

"I don't know what you mean," he answered. Again, Alexander smelled the lie.

"Well...did you ever feel...frightened, when your dad or your mom got upset?" Even as he said it, he felt the question both too vague and too leading, but as Philip was only eight, he knew he'd have to draw the confession out a little however he got to it.

Philip narrowed his eyes. "My parents never hurt me!" he snapped. "Everything was perfect."

Alexander nodded. "I believe you, _chaval_. What were you dreaming about?" His only answer was a shrug. "Okay. It's been a stressful few days, and whatever that dream was, it was intense. Let's get you back to sleep. Come on, lie down." 

It took a little more coaxing but Alexander got Philip settled and tucked in. Some sixth sense told him not to treat Philip like his own sons, but instead keep the procedure somewhat business-like. He did not give him a kiss or try to make any unnecessary contact. As he reached for the light, Philip looked up at him, then squeezed his eyes shut tight. "Okay. See you in the morning, _chico_ ," said Alexander. He pulled the chain on the lamp.

After shutting the door behind him, Alexander let out a sigh and forced his shoulders to relax. Philip's coiled tension was so palpable that it created knots in Alexander's muscles. Worse yet, the boy reacted in almost the textbook way abuse victims his age tended to react, whenever there was any hint of accusation against their abusers. He'd blown right past Alexander's somewhat more innocent question and brought up being "hurt," unprompted. It was too little to constitute proof of anything--but based on Philip's anxieties, Alexander wanted him evaluated by someone more qualified. If Brad had been beating him--or worse, molesting him--then it explained a lot. It explained his reticence and the unusual withdrawal he was showing, over and above a grieving child's. It explained why he got so nervous when adult men got loud, or angry. It explained his fear of Alexander.

He returned to Eliza's bedroom, where Jaime had nestled next to his mother and now lay sprawled over two-thirds of the mattress. "Jesus, Jay, budge up," Alexander muttered, and moved his son's arm and leg so that he could perch on the edge, then slide in and force the issue. 

Eliza stirred. "Where were you?"

"Philip had a nightmare; I was just getting him back to sleep."

"A nightmare? Should I check on him?" Eliza sat up.

"No, he's okay. I took care of it."

But Eliza was up and throwing on a robe as if Alexander hadn't spoken. "I'll go check on him."

"He's okay now…."

"He's been under a huge strain. If he's already asleep, I'll be right back. And if he's not, then it won't hurt for him to know we're worried about him."

Even in the dimness, Alexander recognized the look of resolve on his wife's face. "Look, I wanted to talk to you about this tomorrow, but--if you're determined, then you should know, he overheard your father and Grant earlier. Fighting over him, more or less. I think--"

Eliza waited for him to finish, but Alexander glanced furtively down at Jaime in the bed. He glimpsed a flash of white around his son's eyes to confirm his suspicion before the kid hurriedly feigned sleep. Alexander sighed. "I think that's probably what set him off," he concluded, putting off the larger discussion of Philip's probable diagnosis until later. He nodded toward the possum-player; Eliza took the hint with practiced understanding.

"Okay. I'll be back soon," said Eliza, and shut the door behind her quietly.

"You should be asleep," Alexander told Jaime without rancor as he scooted down the mattress to curl around his boy.

"'M'sleep," Jaime assured him, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Pop?"

"Mm."

"Is Philip motionly disturbed?"

Jaime's phrasing was so precise and sincere, yet so tangled in his seven-year-old terminology, that it made Alexander bark with laughter. "No, bud. He's just--well, yeah, come to think of it, he's probably technically emotionally disturbed, but not in a bad way. Where'd you hear that, anyway?"

He felt, rather than saw, Jaime's shrug. "Uncle Phil said that people who've been through something tragic are motionly disturbed. By definition."

"Ah. Well, that's a question of degrees. Obviously, he's grieving. Right now he may not even be sure _how_ to feel."

"He's not gonna murder us in our sleep, though, like Chucky?"

"No, he's--wait: 'Chucky'? Has your brother been showing you scary movies?"

"No," Jaime said, sounding quite unconvincing.

"Right. Well, he's not gonna murder us, in our sleep or any other time." In Spanish, he muttered, _"And your Uncle Phil's a fine one to talk about who has emotional problems._ " He shook off the frustration of the day and patted Jaime's brow. "Okay, back to sleep." He settled in while Jaime clung on to him a little more tightly than normal. Alexander braced himself for an uncomfortable night. He made a note to have a conversation with his eldest in the morning, too.

 

~

 

On Sunday, Catherine, Eliza, and Kitty took the boys to church. Grant and Linda followed with Phil and Sarah, leaving Peggy, Philip, and Alexander alone in the house. Alexander worked for an hour or so, then suggested to Peggy that they make brunch for when the others returned. It gave him a chance to talk to her about everything else--other than her extreme weight loss program--and get a sense of the rest of her life. 

"So I just threw together a bag, and I've been at Jenny's since then," she concluded as they put some fresh biscuits in the oven. 

"Lease is in your name?"

"What lease? No, it was just month-to-month." 

"Are you sure you don't want the rest of your stuff?"

"It's just stuff." She cleaned up the mixing bowl and put away the flour and baking powder. 

Alexander couldn't argue with the healthiness of that attitude. "Do you want me to find someone to help evict him?"

"Police will get him eventually," Peggy said confidently. "Jenny says it's not worth getting involved."

"If you have definite knowledge that he's dealing--"

"Alex, I don't want--I just want to move on with my life." Her voice cracked a tiny bit. To cover it up, she dug through the refrigerator. 

"Okay. As long as you aren't going to be on the hook for anything this asshole does at your old place." They worked in silence for a moment while he weighed his next question. "How well do you know this Jenny?"

"She's on the floor with me at Bally's," Peggy explained, pulling out vegetables and a carton of eggs. "Her place is small but with two of us it makes expenses a lot easier. Commuting, too--although we're not always on the same shifts."

Alexander listened while Peggy bubbled on about her friend. Apart from her diet, or lack thereof, she seemed happy. As they chopped the vegetables for a frittata, he picked up a few more hints that she wouldn't be upset if things with Jenny went further than friendship. Finally, she said, "It's so hard to balance, isn't it? I mean, there's so much pressure toward monogamy no matter who you're with, but--well, _you_ know, that's just not how a lot of people are wired."

"A commitment's a commitment," he murmured absently. "But if you're saying you want to enjoy being single, there's nothing wrong with that. Here, hand me that tomato."

"I'm saying--I dunno. I don't want to be alone--I mean, who does? But I'm beginning to think it's even more difficult to be with a man." She swept her cut chives into a bowl and started on a bell pepper. "No offense."

"None taken. A good man is hard to find." 

"I mean--well, Eliza found you, but then…."

"I'm not that good."

"You're not that straight, either," Peggy pointed out.

Alexander frowned appreciatively. "True. But I am in a committed relationship with your sister." 

"Please," she scoffed, arms crossed. "Like Eliza didn't tell me and Angie what happened in '92?"

"Pegs, I don't know what Eliza said--I can imagine she was pretty pissed--but she's always known that I'm attracted to men and women." He finished dicing the tomato and flicked the small cubes into a bowl with the flat of the knife. "Most people don't though, so let's keep that quiet?"

"Your secret's safe with me. I'm not angry," Peggy assured him, scraping the pepper off her cutting board. "I was, on her behalf. But then again I've never really promised anyone fidelity."

"Nothing happened, you know. Not that I--well, no, I won't excuse imyself. Except to say that she and I have dealt with all that." He crossed to a cupboard to pull out a larger bowl, into which he began cracking eggs.

"She did explain to me and Angie, eventually, that it wasn't quite what we all thought." There was a pause while she wiped up the cuttings from their veggies and brought the cutting board to the sink. "Alex, do you and Eliza want to adopt Phil?"

"What? No," Alexander said.

"Are you sure?" Peggy grabbed a glass from the cupboard to fill it at the refrigerator's door dispenser.. 

"Well…." He dug in the drawers for a whisk. "We haven't really had any time to talk about it." 

"She wants him, though. You can tell."

"Yeah, I can tell," Alexander admitted. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"If not you two, then who?"

Alexander shrugged. "Where are you going with this?"

"I think--you need to be careful that Beth's parents don't find out about your past." She sat at the counter with her water, took a plastic pill bottle out of her pocket, and tipped out an assortment of capsules. "I'm pretty sure Linda's assuming that any court will favor a white couple of any age over any other situation, even a healthy-looking family like yours."

"You're telling _me_ about what courts will decide or not decide when it's between a white family and a minority?" Alexander asked, bemused.

"I know you know, it's just--well. It's not like I can do it, either," Peggy volunteered. She swallowed one pill, then another. "I mean, no one's going to look at my life and tell me I can take care of a kid, right?"

"Peggy, if you aren't happy with your life--"

"I am. I mean, really, it's okay. I'm just...there's never been room for kids. I mean, I've always been careful, you know, because I know it's hard to raise a child alone, or without a lot of income."

"It happens. But you know you could get help, if you--"

"It's okay, Alex. It's just that something like this, where Philip needs someone to take care of him? It makes you think about what you've done with your life." She downed the remainder of the supplements.

"Pegs, this job you're trying for--when do you know if you've got it or not?"

"Oh," she grimaced, a little taken aback by the change of topic. "Well, it's not exactly like there's an interview. They hold auditions every so often."

"Is there a point where you...give up?" he pressed.

She refilled her glass before answering. "You mean, have I set a deadline--and, yes. If I can't get the job after three tries, it's probably never going to happen." She sniffed. Her shoulders shuddered, and Alexander realized she was weeping.

He set the whisk down inside the bowl of eggs and came to the fridge. Engulfing her in a hug, he let her cry against his shoulder. 

"Sorry," she said after a few minutes of sobbing. "I thought I was done. I just can't believe Brad's gone, or that any of this is turning out the way it is. It's just everything's different from what I thought it would be, you know?"

"Yeah. It's called life." 

She chuckled and wiped her eyes. "I suppose it's pretty rich to complain to you about life not turning out like you thought."

"I like to think I faced all my adversity early on," Alexander quipped. "But the truth is, Pegs, it doesn't matter. So I had some shit happen when I was young; I had some lucky breaks, too. I lost someone I loved like breathing, but I met your sister, and I have three beautiful sons. But so what? You think I have everything figured out? Or that your parents do? We're all stumbling along the best we can, hoping like hell none of us are on the next plane to crash."

"If I--wanted Philip--"

"We'd help," Alexander promised. "If you really wanted to take care of him. Do you?"

Peg shook her head. "I _would_ if there weren't anyone else, but--want? No, not really." She rested her head on his shoulder again. "But Eliza does," she murmured. "Why won't you help her?"

"Because it's not necessarily that simple."

"And because it's uncomfortable for you," Peggy accused. She said it calmly, and not nastily, but he felt the blow like a gunshot. He pulled away.

"That's--not true," he told her simply. "Let's put this frittata together before everyone gets back."

 

~

 

In the interest of not overwhelming Brad's attorney, they agreed that a small contingent would go on Monday to hear the wills read. To Alexander's surprise, it was Linda, not Grant, who rode in the back of Philip's Cadillac, along with little Phil. The car's owner sat in the passenger seat. Sarah was on airport duty again: this time to pick up Angelica. John would come once the date for the memorial was set, it had been decided. Sarah promised to bring Angelica directly to the lawyer's office, but both Eliza and Peggy had chosen to go with her, to get the most out of Angelica's brief time in the States. Alexander expected that Sarah and Peggy would go on somewhere, and that they'd use the third-row seating in the giant Caddie to take everyone else home afterward.

The Cadillac purred as Alexander maneuvered it into a parking spot. He and Linda hopped out to help Philip with his lightweight walker. Then Linda took little Phil's hand. "Don't worry, love," she told him in a voice that Alexander would call just to the acceptable side of "baby-talk." "Everything's going to be all right."

Philip's face darkened but he said nothing. He clutched his grandmother's hand, or possibly suffered his hand to be clutched by hers. _It's never going to be all right again, lady,_ Alexander thought. Between this display and Grant's fit of temper the other night, Alexander felt another flash of possessiveness engulf him. This wasn't his child, and he had grave doubts about whether Philip would ever begin to let Alexander in, but at that moment, Alexander wanted nothing more than to tell Beth's parents that their kind of help was not needed here.

It wasn't his place, though, and besides, Philip had sufficient relatives fighting over his future already. Most importantly, whatever was in the will would dictate the outcome, regardless of Alexander's visceral dislike of the Hunters. 

Sarah's car pulled in not five minutes after Alexander parked. Angelica threw her door open almost before the car stopped moving, and hopped out gracefully to rush inside the office. "Bà-Bà!" she called on her way over to Philip. Philip got to his feet to give her a huge hug. She helped him to sit again immediately. "I brought you the good stuff," she told him with a wink. "Powder from that little herbalist in the Kensington High Street." She knelt before little Phil. "Hey, darling," she said sweetly. She put her arms on his shoulders with care. "It's good to see you. I've been so worried about you."

"I'm okay, Aunt Ange," said Philip, but he pushed in for a hug all the same.

Angelica wiped her eye surreptitiously as she stood. Eliza came in behind her, framed in the sunlight through the open door. Alexander had risen, too, to greet Angelica, and the sight of the two of them struck him as a perfect expression of the complicated ways they acted on him. It stole his breath away. Then Angelica had pressed into his arms, and he embraced her, and it was as if they had never been an ocean away from one another. 

"Are you the Queen of England yet?" he asked her.

"Not quite," she replied. "But give me time." They separated, but in their odd ritual, kept hold of each other's hands and spread them as if to take each other in. "Alexander."

"Angelica."

It was a toss-up which of them started to giggle first.

"Break it up, or else make room," Eliza said, diving between them. "Sarah and Peggy are gonna head to the mall."

"The mall?" Linda squawked.

"Yes. Peggy needs new clothes, and Philip needs a few things, too, no matter what happens here today." Eliza explained. 

Angelica chimed in as well. "Besides, the mall is the balm of our generation--it's its own form of therapy." She extended her hand. "Mrs. Hunter, I'm so sorry about Beth."

The inner door opened, sparing Linda the trouble of having to answer. They all filed in.

Brad's attorney was a middle-aged woman named Annie Hochstein. She wore glasses on a beaded chain and her Upstate accent was strongly underlayered by the flat tones of Brooklyn. "Everyone here? Where's Philip?" She scanned the crowd for the little boy. "Philip, will you come forward for a minute, sweetie? Thank you." Linda reluctantly let go of his hand, but Alexander noticed that he had glanced over at Eliza before moving to comply with the lawyer. She held out her hand to bring him around her desk. "Well, you know why everyone's here today? Okay," she said at his confirming nod. "And you know what a will and testament is? Good!" she said, with just the right mix of brightness and sympathy, as he nodded again. "Well, ordinarily, everyone who's concerned with a will is present when it's read. But you don't have to be here if you don't want. If you'd rather wait outside with Miss Tierbacher, that would be all right." Philip swept his eyes over everyone behind him, and bit his lip. "Or...maybe if you want to wait but not alone, your grandmother would be--"

He leaned forward suddenly and whispered in Ms. Hochstein's ear. It was her turn to nod. "Yes, I'm sure that would be all right." She set her hands gently on his shoulders. 

Linda shifted as if to stand, but Philip said, "Can Aunt Lizzie go with me?"

Alexander swallowed his lips to keep from smirking. Philip's dismissal of his grandmother's ministrations wiped the simper off her face and, Alexander thought, rightly so. It was only as Eliza rose and guided Philip out of the room that it occurred to him that Philip was really imprinting on her as a primary protector, and that perhaps, that wasn't so great a development. He set the thought aside, however, as the door closed on them and Ms. Hochstein got down to business.

"Okay. Mrs. Hunter, I only have a few details about the codicils left by your daughter, I'm sorry, but the bulk of the will was in both Brad and Beth's names together. There's a trust for Philip, and the rest will have to go through probate--"

"What does that mean?" Linda asked.

Alexander explained quickly, "It's the process by which the contents are submitted to the court systems so that no one can falsify the will afterward, basically. It's nothing to worry about."

Ms. Hochstein glanced up at him. "You're Hamilton, aren't you? The attorney?"

"Yes."

"Oh, good." 

The two held a brief sidebar about training, specialities, and a healthy smattering of jargon, while the others waited. Linda grew more and more impatient as their chatter continued, but Philip smiled at her. "Alexander is building rapport," he said softly to her. "It's one of his talents. Watch: Pretty soon he'll throw in a minor flirtation and have her eating out of his hand."

"You're very proud of your son-in-law's roving eye," she said tartly.

"When it's employed in the service of the family, yes. Very," Philip chuckled. The sound brought the two lawyers out of their exclusionary conference.

"Sorry," Ms. Hochstein said. "I don't often get to talk shop with clients. Anyway, where were we?"

"You were about to read the will," Alexander prompted.

"Right. Well, there's not much to read, as I was saying. There's a trust for Philip, for his university education--then if there's anything left afterward, it's to be awarded to him in an allowance of no more than $2,500 per month until he's 30, at which point it passes into his own management. There's the house, which will also go into the trust unless it's sold. I recommend selling or someone's going to have to keep it up and pay the taxes and such. Then there's the life insurance policies. If there is anything left after their final expenses, they both elected to distribute 75% to Philip. Brad's remaining 25% were to go to Beth or to be split among his remaining siblings if Beth should predecede him. Beth had no siblings, so her remaining 25% reverts to her parents. As for personal items, there's nothing listed, with the exception of some jewelry that Beth wanted to give to a friend."

"What about Philip? Who takes custody?" Angelica asked pointedly.

"The will provides options." She outlined the various scenarios that Brad and Beth had foreseen. "They planned for a number of contingencies, but in the event of both of them dying suddenly, their primary concern was that Philip be placed in the stablest environment available. They knew that Mr. Schuyler's health is not the best--no offense, sir, but--"

"None taken. But I'm healthy enough and so is Mrs. Schuyler."

"Of course. But they also didn't want to have to uproot Philip entirely. Obviously, some amount of upheaval is inevitable. But--"

"Well, Rhode Island isn't that far from anywhere, and Philip knows the town well enough, he's come to visit three summers now." This from Linda, who adopted a perfectly reasonable tone.

"Yes, but wouldn't it be better for him to--to be with people closer to his own age?" Angelica asked. "I mean, summers with grandparents is one thing, but won't he be better off if he can socialize with people who don't have a six-decade age gap?"

"I'm not a child psychologist," Ms. Hochstein said, "but after something like this, it probably wouldn't hurt to consult one."

Linda, Philip, and Angelica all erupted at once. "We don't need a psychologist to--"

"I don't see why we can't simply--"

"I think what matters is that Philip--"

"Can we speak about this privately?" Alexander spoke over them all to Ms. Hochstein. She nodded and rose, and with a muttered "Of course," she vacated her own office.

When she left, Alexander continued, "The fact is, I do think Philip should talk to a professional--a grief counselor, at the least. Before we make any decision. In the meantime, I think we should find out where _he_ would feel most comfortable."

If he'd expected calm to prevail, he'd been most mistaken. Linda snapped venomously, "Well, obviously, he's attaching to Eliza. Not surprising, since she was the first one to get him when this all happened. That's a clear advantage to you."

"Advantage?" Angelica echoed. "I'm sorry, he's a boy, not a trophy. This isn't Brad's art collection we're talking about."

"And Eliza and I already have our hands full with the three we have," Alexander added diplomatically. "Of course, we'd take him happily if that's what we all decide is best, but I don't think any of us want a hasty decision."

"What do you propose, Alexander?" Philip asked, his deep voice silencing the others.

"Well, let's take each scenario in order of likelihood, at least." He reached out for Hochstein's pages. "Sorry, Angel, but I think London's a long shot."

Angelica nodded in agreement. "I do, too. We did talk about it before I left, John and I, but I'm sure it would be too much change all at once."

"Right," Alexander concurred, grateful as ever for Angelica's practical mind. "So, if we table me and Eliza for now, that leaves--"

"It's not really an issue until holidays, isn't it?" Linda interjected. "I mean, he'll go back to school in a few more days, and then surely you'll have him back here for Christmas break. But after New Year's we'd have until summer to put together a place for him to stay permanently."

"If he goes back to boarding school," Philip cautioned. 

"Here's what I propose," Alexander said. "Let's ask Ms. Hochstein to help set up an appointment for him with a grief counselor this week. During that time, we can find out if he has any particular preference--and we can evaluate how feasible it would be to indulge him--and then when he goes back to school, we can make whatever arrangements are needed. In the meantime, he'll need someone to be his legal guardian and emergency contact."

"Lizzie's a nurse," Angelica pointed out.

"Philip, you and Catherine are closer to his school," Alexander countered, with a pleading look at Angelica. "And Linda's right that we'll all be back here for Christmas, anyway. Linda, if Philip's been spending summers in Rhode Island, maybe he can continue to do that."

She did not look mollified, but perhaps seeing handwriting on the wall, she merely nodded with tight lips.

"Meanwhile, I think he should talk to the counselor, or to Ms. Hochstein, about where he's most comfortable. And I think--I think any of us who want to propose taking care of him should present Ms. Hochstein with their case."

"Their case?" Linda repeated. "You mean, get a lawyer to--"

"No," said Alexander calmly, "I mean, put together your reasons, your plan for taking care of him. Would he get his own room? Will he continue at boarding school or go to school in your neighborhood? What opportunities are there to make other friends or go to extracurricular activities? That sort of thing."

"That makes sense," Angelica put in, "especially since we're not all here now, to make a decision. And Ms. Hochstein's an impartial party."

"Exactly. The boy doesn't have to worry he'll hurt anyone's feelings talking to her," Philip agreed. 

Linda looked around at them all. "Are you all comfortable putting this decision in the hands of an eight-year-old?"

"In the hands of a qualified counselor and an experienced probate lawyer," Alexander corrected, "with the input of the one person who's the most affected by the decision: Philip."

"He's a child," Linda protested.

Alexander moistened a mouth gone dry and caught his lips between his teeth, swallowing his first impulsive comment. "Mrs. Hunter," he said after a moment, "Philip and Ange are familiar with the reason for my position, but maybe you're not. Philip needs to participate in this change, yes." She looked about to speak again, so he continued, "Were you orphaned as a minor, Mrs. Hunter? Have you ever faced the possibility of a court deciding where you'll live, who your guardian will be, if you'll even see a penny of inheritance? Have you ever been placed in a custodial situation that turned out worse than a shelter would have been--just because it was with someone who could claim kinship?"

She crossed her arms and reluctantly shook her head.

"Philip is lucky," Alexander went on. "He's got at least three options, maybe four--offers of homes with family, who will look after him and care what happens to him. He's got a fund guaranteed to provide enough for him to go to college, and maybe even a home of his own waiting for him when he graduates. We look at his situation and see all that. You know what he sees? His parents are dead. Even if he does go back to that house, it'll never be the same. He sees people fighting over him but not wanting him--he sees us jockeying for possession of him like he's a piece of furniture--and he sees himself as a burden to whoever winds up 'getting stuck' with him. Do you know where his head's at right now? I don't, but I've got a pretty good idea. He needs to be able to say what he wants, and he needs someone qualified and impartial who can help him weigh the options and choose what's best for him, and can explain the decision if it's _not_ what he chooses for himself." 

As he finished, Alexander realized that his hands had balled into fists, that he was speaking more loudly than he'd intended. Although he'd kept the details to himself, just the mention of the way he and Jimmy had been tossed around after his mother's death was enough to tense his shoulders and quicken his heart rate. He forced himself to slow down his breath, back off, but from the look of shock on Linda's face, he knew he'd let her glimpse the scared, grieving, abandoned kid that still lurked--that would always lie in wait--inside the confident, successful New York activist and lawyer he showed to the world. 

"I know, everyone's in pain here," he offered in a more conciliatory voice. "But believe me, no one of us is hurting as much as he is. No one's as scared of the future as he is right now. If you care about him as much as I think you do, then you will let him have a say in what happens next. God knows, the world won't give a fuck if we don't."

He sat down heavily. A warm hand rested on his arm and he curled his fingers around it without thinking. Only when he absently caressed the wedding ring did he remember it wasn't Eliza's, but Angelica's hand he was holding.

"There's...no need to swear," Linda muttered, but it was a chastened, embarrassed sort of complaint.

"I think we can bring the others in, don't you?" Philip asked her, and without waiting for her answer, he nodded to Angelica. She left Alexander's side to open the office door.

 

~

 

Ms. Hochstein gave Philip the forms he and Catherine would have to fill out to become little Philip's temporary guardians, and she had promised to call the house by the end of the day with an appointment for the boy to see a counselor. In turn, Alexander explained to the rest of the family that if anyone wanted to be considered as Philip's permanent guardians, they should write up a brief list of the qualifications and advantages they had to offer. 

"Sounds like buying a house," Sarah observed. 

"Not so different," Alexander agreed, "Only you're not convincing an owner to sell to you; you're giving an attorney information she needs to help make the best decision about Philip's welfare."

When everyone separated to digest that and discuss amongst themselves, Eliza had pulled Alexander with her to their bedroom. "I think we should put together our list," she said simply.

Alexander looked at her blankly. "What list?"

"What list--what do you mean, what list? Our list of reasons to take Philip in."

He shook his head. He'd been half worried this moment would come, ever since Angelica called them nearly a week ago, since Peggy called it in the kitchen the previous day. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders. "I don't think we should, _cariña_."

"Alexander, you cannot look me straight in the eye and tell me you don't know we're the best choice for a boy in Philip's situation. He's right in between Alex and Jay in age; we've already got the infrastructure for boys; and...there's you." She tapped him on his shirt collar.

He backed away. "I've told you, he's terrified of me--it's just a recipe for trouble."

"He heard you, Alex," Eliza told him. 

"What?"

"He heard you, through the door," said Eliza. "Ms. Hochstein's assistant offered us a Walkman but he didn't like the music she had, so he took off the headphones. He heard you yelling at Linda."

"Well, shit, now he's gonna be twice as--"

"No, Alexander, it's not what you think. I mean, I see what you mean about him reacting to a man's raised voice, but--he was listening." She drew him to sit on the mattress. "He looked at me and asked, 'Is Uncle Alexander telling the truth?' and I told him, yes, you were. I think, if we give him a little time to get used to you, he'll be all right."

"Bets. We can't--Alex is nine, Philip's eight, Jay's seven--Do you really want to juggle three school schedules like that? We can't afford--"

"My parents managed it, with us. And hello, didn't you just remind Linda he'll have a trust fund? You could keep his expenses separate, have Robby monitor the money--"

"Besides, you wanted to go back to work, didn't you?" He launched up again, unable to keep still. "He's used to being an only child--look, I said that stuff because Linda was insufferable--"

"I agree. Do you really want her and Grant raising him?"

"No, but it's not my decision."

"But one way to influence that is to offer an alternative." She put her arms around his waist. "You know ours is a loving home. And you'd be such a good influence for him. He'd have the other boys for company, we could enroll him in Jay's school, get him out of that snooty place--"

"Bets…." He opened and closed his mouth again. He'd been ready to remind her that Philip was liable to need loads of special attention, all the ways it would strain their household, but she was looking at him in that way she had. Like he had hung the moon in the sky just for her. Like she expected him to fix anything and everything. Like he was a far better man than he was. "Okay," he heard himself saying. "If you really want to...throw our hats in the ring--"

"I do. I think he needs us."

"Well, it's not necessarily that simple, but--okay, we can make our case, like everyone else."

She went on tip-toe to kiss his nose. He stole a second, deeper kiss. "I love you," she said.

"Then I must be the luckiest son of a bitch on earth," he replied, tucking her hair behind her ear. "But seriously, Bets, you know this isn't gonna be easy?"

"I know. But I think it's the right thing to do."

Unfortunately, it turned out that Ms. Hochstein did not agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations**  
>  todo esta bien - everything's okay  
> tu es sauf - you're safe
> 
> A big thank-you to Kikibug13, who has consented to act as beta-reader and is doing an amazing job!


	4. Visitors

But first came the funerals. After the appointment with Ms. Hochstein on Monday, Philip and Catherine took Grant and Linda back to the undertakers. They made their choices about what to do when they did have remains to bury, arranged for notices, scheduled a brief service at Catherine's church, and filled out all the necessary paperwork. The memorial was set for Thursday--a week before Thanksgiving. 

In the middle of the week, little Philip had his appointment with the grief counselor. Since Angelica's arrival, it was a toss-up between the sisters which of them he gravitated to most. He tended to go to Angelica before Peggy, and about as much as Sarah, mainly because Eliza had the three boys to contend with and Philip disliked competing for the attention. He much preferred the aunts who would give him his own way out of pity--Sarah in particular seemed to let him hold sway quite a bit. "Probably because she wants her own," Eliza commented to Alexander privately. Oddly, Philip didn't seek out his grandmothers, though Linda, it seemed, sought him out much more often than he looked for her. He didn't object to time with his Uncle Phil or either of his grandfathers, but avoided groups, and seemed much more comfortable with the women for company, or the boys, than any of the men. 

So when the time came, it was Angelica who drove him to his Wednesday appointment. Despite the cold, she took him for an ice cream afterward. They talked about everything in the world except his conversation with the psychologist, she reported, and by the time they came home, he was smiling and almost normal.

At least, he seemed so, until he learned that the memorials would be held the following day. With an angry scowl, he stomped up the stairs to his bedroom. Sarah and Linda both went rushing after him.

Angelica smiled sadly at Alexander and Eliza and lowered her voice. "Does it seem to you like everyone's courting him? It's like they all want to be picked for the dance."

"Definitely," Alexander said, mouth twisting in distaste. "How did the appointment go?"

"She wants to see him again on Monday and then she's going to call the lawyer."

"Two hours for an evaluation? That's not a lot." Eliza frowned.

Angelica shrugged. "I'm sure she wants to get this taken care of before Thanksgiving."

"Speaking of which, Eliza, we should call the the schools and get everyone's homework through the holiday. And the hospital--and I'll check in at the firm."

"You don't sound too happy about that, Alexander," Angelica observed.

"I'm not, but it can't be helped, really. It puts everyone's lives on hold for another week, at least."

"Of course, it's inconvenient for us all, but maybe it's not the worst thing for him to take a break--"

"For how long? He should get back to routine. Someplace where everyone isn't tiptoeing around," Alexander said. "Bets, you remember what St. Vincent's was like? We let people grieve, sure, but it was important to focus on the lives lived, and the living. He needs to start going through normal motions."

"To say nothing of disrupting everyone else's routines," she agreed.

"I know, I just--" Angelica sighed, dropping her objection. "We all need to get back to normal motions, I guess."

"The memorials will help," Alexander observed. "Even if he doesn't want to face them right now."

Angelica took her sister's hand. "This sounds crazy but do you know what I want to do? Since the three of us are all here? Let's grab Peggy and go play SuperMario for a bit. Like we used to."

Eliza smiled. The sisters shared a devilishly gleeful giggle.

"Good idea. You girls go have fun," Alexander said. "I'll call the schools for the boys' homework. And I've got some of my own."

 

~

 

A couple of hours later, Sarah knocked on the office door. "Alexander? I--I was hoping I could use the computer for a little while. If you're not...using it?"

He looked up from his notes. "Oh, uh...sure. I think I'm done for now. I can do this in the dining room." He started to close the programs he'd been using and paused over the mouse. "I'm connected--do you want to stay online, or…"

"Oh. No, I don't, um, email. Or anything. I just--" She held up some handwritten pages. "I wanted to put these into the word processor."

"Okay," said Alexander neutrally. "I'll just see how the boys are doing." He gathered up his own notepads and the one law book he'd been consulting.

"Can I ask you something?" she said just as he got to the door.

"Okay."

"I--How did you get the Schuylers to accept you?"

"What do you mean?" he asked, returning. A certain defensiveness crept into his voice.

"Oh--not like that!" she exclaimed. Her cheeks flushed bright pink. "I mean...I've been with Phil for eight years. Since our Senior year of college. And--Philip and Cathy still treat me like an outsider. Hell, they still sometimes treat _Phil_ like an outsider. But Philip looks at you like--like his own flesh and blood."

Alexander leaned on the corner of the mahogany desk. He recognized in the question not only her frustration and sense of not belonging to the big, messy Schuyler clan, but also a protectiveness on her husband's behalf. She was asking not just to get herself integrated, but to improve Phil's standing in the family. 

"Well...for one thing, I'm useful. You know Philip's a former Senator, but he's not an attorney like a lot of politicians. He came up through enforcement, then state politics. He's always appreciated my willingness to help with legislative matters for the family. I guess it helps that...I really care about his daughters--all of them."

"Phil cares about his sisters," Sarah protested.

"Sure, of course he does," Alexander agreed. "But he's a good deal younger than the trio are. I mean, Kitty looks up to him."

"A little, I guess."

"And you two have been trying to start your own family, isn't that so?"

Sarah nodded. "Trying. But I don't--I don't know. I watch him with little Phil and I think, he could be a good father. Only…it hasn't been…. We've been going to a specialist. I don't know if we'll ever be able to have our own."

"Ah," Alexander said. He came around the desk and sat on its edge to avoid looming over her. "Eliza did mention that you had some...worries. But I didn't realize it was physical. I thought--"

"Everyone assumes that because he was in a war, Philip's got battle fatigue or something. Post-Traumatic Stress, they're calling it. PTSD. Well, they may not be wrong. But no, I don't think it has anything to do with his mental health. He wants kids as much as I do, I'm sure. I think. We just--can't seem to make it happen."

Alexander put a hand lightly on her shoulder. "I'm no expert, but in my experience, sometimes trying too hard makes it worse."

"You and Elizabeth didn't have any trouble," Sarah retorted. 

"No, we've been lucky," he allowed. "But we weren't forcing anything, either. If it happened, it happened. If not...that would have been okay, too. And look at Philip and Cathy--they thought they were more than done after Phil, and then--Surprise! Kitty came along."

"Well, regardless," Sarah said tightly, "I keep thinking, if we had a child--Philip and Cathy would have to look at us differently, wouldn't they?"

"Oh, Sarah," he said sympathetically. "Look, I probably can't convince you that Philip and Cathy already 'accept' you or that they'd never dream of excluding anyone in their family. But I think if you look at how they approach Beth's parents, or the way they are with Peggy, you could guess that they're good people. There's always a place for their children here, and for the people their children love. That means you, too. But I can tell you, and this is true no matter who your in-laws are, that giving them a grandchild isn't an automatic fix for your relationship with them. They'll love the grandkid, no question, but if you want to change how you think they treat you? You have to build your own bridges. A baby won't do that on its own."

"Easy for you to say. Alex was their first grandchild--of course they adore him. And you."

"Well. I also have one other advantage. I adore them, too."

"Oh." 

He stood up. "I'll let you work," he said, and left her to think about it.

 

~

 

Later that afternoon, he found the boys (all four of them) watching cartoons down in the family room, but not all on the couch as he'd expected. Philip was alone on the sofa, while Alex, Jr., and Jay were seated at the little game table in one corner. Johnny sat on the floor by his brothers, playing with DUPLOs with one eye on the TV. " _Oyé, muchachos_ ," he said as he came in, "I have some good news and some bad news."

"What's that, Pop?" Alejandro asked.

Alexander paused before answering. Philip's body language was closed off; indeed, he had turned right back to the TV as soon as he saw it was Alexander--as if his news could not possibly affect him. Jay and Alex, on the other hand, were dividing their attention not between their father and the TV, but between him and Philip. "Well," he said, wondering what sort of squabble might have happened before he came in, "the good news is, we are staying here for another week. The bad news is, I have all your homework assignments through Thanksgiving."

This prompted a predictable amount of complaint. Philip, however, mocked his cousins. "Sucks for you," he sneered at Alex.

"And for you," Alexander countered. "I called Lakeside Academy; I've got your homework, too."

Philip immediately got to his feet. "That's not fair!" he cried. "I'm not even going back to that place!"

"Who told you _that_?" Alexander asked in surprise. "Philip, nothing's been decided yet. Until it does, we're operating under business as usual, which means you'll do your homework and when the time comes you'll go back to school."

"I don't want to," Philip said. "And you can't make me."

Alexander let out a little "Huh" of disappointment. He turned to his own boys and said, in Spanish, " _Alejandro, turn off the TV and take your brothers upstairs, please_." He handed Jaime the list of assignments and continued. " _Go to the dining room and start your homework_."

"But don't we have all week to--"

" _Vamos, chicos_ ," Alexander repeated softly. "Get started, at least. I'll join you in a minute."

Alex seemed about to protest again, but instead he picked up the remote from the end table, clicked off the TV, and grabbed Juan's pudgy hand. 

"I was watching that!" Philip whined. Juan raised his voice to object as well.

"And now we are talking," Alexander said patiently. He jerked his head at his eldest. They went upstairs over the toddler's protests, though it took some effort on Alex's part. Jaime remained. He shook his head at Philip. "You're in trouble," he warned.

" _Jaime Alejandro, don't make me repeat myself; go upstairs_ ," he said, still in Spanish. To Philip, he said with an effort to remain calm, "Philip, you're _not_ in trouble. Okay? I'm not angry with you and you're not being punished or anything. I just want to know who told you you're not going back."

Philip eyed Alexander and shifted his focus up, toward the noise of his cousins' thunderous trek to the dining room. He then cast his eyes down, as if to show Alexander deference.

"Philip, no one's decided what's happening with your school yet," Alexander said again. "Now answer me, please. Who told you that?"

The boy flinched. "Gramma," he muttered.

"Which one?" Alexander asked, as if he didn't already suspect the answer.

Sure enough, Philip made a noise in his throat, an animal whine. "Gramma, not Grammy," he said, with emphasis on the final syllable. 

"Yes, but--okay," Alexander allowed. Probably Philip thought his distinction was enough. "Gramma Linda?" he asked.

Philip nodded. "I mean, yes, sir," he then added. 

"Well, she shouldn't have said anything like that. It's not her decision." He moved slowly toward the sofa. Philip edged toward the doors, to keep the sofa between him and Alexander. Alexander halted. "Look, if you don't want to go back to Lakeside, that's something we can talk about, but you're at least going to have to finish out the term. If you don't go back, you don't want to start a new school with bad marks from the old one, do you?"

Philip backed up a step. "I don't care," he said.

"Sure you do. And if you wind up staying, you want to keep your grades up there, too." Alexander inched forward. "So, I think you should go up--"

"Leave me alone," Philip interrupted boldly. "I don't want to go upstairs; I wanna watch TV."

"And I'm telling you that you can watch TV later. Right now, you've got some assignments to work on." Alexander realized that he could have dropped the request earlier, but if he and Eliza were really going to wind up with custody, he did not want to establish a precedent for Philip powering his way over either of them. Once it turned into a struggle, he couldn't back off without Philip concluding that he could get his way just by defying instructions. Alexander did his best to keep the conflict from escalating. He kept his tone upbeat. "Come on, you can put in half an hour or so before dinner. We'll do them together; let's go."

"No." Philip glared at Alexander with open defiance--it was the most intense, most honest emotion he had yet seen on the boy's face. 

"It's fine to be angry with me," Alexander told him. "I know your Aunt Sarah and your grandmother Linda are babying you, but believe me, it will help to do some things that aren't all escapism and fantasy." He took another step forward. "Not everyone's going to treat you like you're made of porcelain--"

"Don't touch me," Philip growled, backing away again.

"Okay," said Alexander, holding up his hands. "But go on up and work on your homework. Half an hour, that's all."

"No."

"I'm not arguing with you over this." He moved closer as if to sit on the couch. "You can be pissed at me but you're going to go and do this. Believe me, I appreciate what you're going through but--"

"I said don't come near me," Philip bit out. He danced over to the end table. He grabbed the remote, clicked the TV back on, and slammed the remote down. "I don't have to do _anything_ you tell me."

Alexander gritted his teeth. "In this particular case, yes, you do. Now, stop working yourself up." He back-tracked to the other end of the sofa so that he could cross behind it to turn off the TV. Philip jumped up and away into the corner. "You can be pissed at me," he repeated, "but you're going to do as I ask because I'm one of the people taking care of you, and we are not going to let you play us off each other." He crossed behind the sofa again, keeping the remote in his hand, and noting that Philip once more danced over to the far side to avoid letting him get too close. 

"What are you afraid of?" Alexander asked him softly.

"I'm not afraid," Philip said, but it was clearly not the case.

"Philip, you're not in trouble. I'm not going to hurt you. Is...is that something you're afraid of?"

Philip shook his head. 

"Is that a no, you're not afraid, or no, you don't believe me?"

Philip shook his head again. 

"Shaking your head isn't an answer. Which one? Or is it something else?"

"I don't have to tell you," Philip spat.

"I'd really like it if you did. I want to understand what's going on with you. Are you afraid of me?"

"No," he lied.

"Do you believe me when I tell you I'm not angry?"

Philip worked his lower lip with his front teeth. "No," he murmured, barely audible.

"No?"

"No, sir?" Philip said. He raised his eyes hesitantly.

"Well, I'm not. I'm frustrated with you, not gonna lie, but that's because you're too smart to behave this stubbornly," he smiled and was reassured to see Philip's lips twitch as if he wanted to smile back. "If I ask Jay and Alex to do something, I'm gonna ask you to do it, too. That's just fair for all of you, understand?"

He shrugged.

"Don't you agree?"

"I shouldn't have to," Philip claimed.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Compelling argument, but I'm gonna go with not a good enough reason. I can understand wanting some time alone and I can understand wanting to check out, ignore the world, but _chico_ , that just makes reentry even harder. Just get a little done every day and then you can spend the rest of the time doing what you want."

"Not tomorrow, though," Philip pointed out darkly.

"No. Not tomorrow. All the more reason to do some tonight." Encouraged by Philip's much calmer demeanor, he took another step forward. Philip didn't flinch. 

"Gramma said I could watch TV," he said instead.

"Yeah? She said you weren't going back to school, either, and she's wrong on both counts. Come on, Philip. Half an hour on your homework. That's all. It's not a life sentence, _chaval_ \--" He reached out as if Philip were one of his own boys. It was a huge mistake.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Philip erupted. He scampered between the sofa and the French doors that led to the back yard, and tried to double back upstairs. Alexander didn't think--he just reversed course so that Philip had to crash through him on his way to the steps. Philip bounced off and made a break for it, but Alexander caught him around the waist and picked him up.

Philip kicked and shrieked, "LET GO OF ME! LET GO!" as Alexander carried him back to the couch. 

"Stop it," Alexander demanded. "Philip, STOP. _Arrêtes._ _¡Haya paz!_ " He sat him down, hands still on his arms to keep him wriggling away. Philip tried anyway. "PHILIP! ENOUGH." With a practiced hand, he used a wrestling hold that he'd needed with Jimmy a few times when he was younger. "Stop struggling and LISTEN. _Écoutes-moi_ , eh?" He waited until Philip ceased struggling. "I am not going to hurt you, Philip. Jesus, what did your father do to you? Look--"

But at the mention of Brad, Philip writhed and twisted violently. "My dad loved me! He never TOUCHED me!" he shouted. "I'm not afraid of you--" he wrenched down hard, and Alexander, not wanting to hurt him, let him slip out of his grasp. Philip raced up the stairs. 

"Fuck," said Alexander, cradling his forehead on one hand.

 

~

 

"He's locked himself in," Eliza confirmed. She was on her knees outside Philip's door, trying the knob. "Philip? Phil, honey, please--open the door? Sweetie, let me talk to you?"

"I fucked up," Alexander muttered behind her. "I knew he was nervous about men, but I didn't give him enough space--"

"I'll take care of it," Eliza said, looking up at him over her shoulder. "Just go away, Alexander."

His head snapped back an inch. "Wha--are you _pissed_ at me?"

"No, I'm not," she said in a tone that indicated she absolutely was. "I just can't reach him with you hovering. Go help the boys with their homework."

"I was just--"

"Alexander, I can only comfort one of you at a time. It's not your turn!" She bit her lips. "I'm sorry--I didn't--"

"No, you're right," he said, and held up his hands in surrender. "I'll let you handle damage control." He hesitated, then planted a quick kiss on the top of her head and retreated.

Downstairs, Jaime and Alejandro looked up nervously when he joined them in the dining room. Angelica leaned over Alex's textbook. "Alex, it's in this formula, right here," she commented, pointing at the page. "Just plug in the numbers from the problem." She regarded Alexander over his son's head. "Any luck?"

"Eliza's--working on it." He pulled out a chair and sank into it heavily. Juan immediately escaped his booster to climb into his father's lap, but Jaime still watched him warily.

"Pop?" he asked after a moment.

Alexander tried to say, "Yes, son," but had to clear his throat to get it out.

"I don't want Philip to come live with us."

Alexander laughed bitterly. "Oh, no?" he asked with a wry smile at Angelica. "I thought you had everything arranged, _mijo_. Weren't you going to share a room?"

"No. He kicks. And anyway, Uncle Phil was right. He's motionally disturbed."

After planting a kiss on Juan's forehead, he set him down with a hug. " _Juanito, ve a ver su abuelo_ , okay? Go find Gramps." He sent off his youngest with a tap to his butt. 

Alex began to get up. "I'll take him, Pop," he said.

"You'll sit down and listen," Alexander said, a little more angrily than he'd intended. "I want to talk to both of you."

"I'll go," Angelica offered. "It's a big house." She patted Alexander's shoulder on her way out.

Alexander drew a steadying breath before squaring off in his chair to face his sons. "Okay. First of all. He's not 'disturbed,' Jay. He's grieving. Let's be careful throwing around that kind of pejorative term. He doesn't need an institution, he's not crazy, he's not dangerous. He's your age and he's facing something big and terrifying. He's still absorbing it. Heck, we all are, but it's worst for him. So--I don't wanna hear either of you talking about he's gonna wig out or have a psychotic break or anything like that. _Comprends_? "

The brothers exchanged a guilty look, and then nodded. 

" _Bon_ ," Alexander continued. "Secondly. This one's tricky. It's good that you two are including him, playing games with him--I want you to keep it up. But if he gets upset about things, or stomps off or ruins the game? You're both gonna cut him a little slack. _¿Claro?_ You don't have to let him win or only do what he wants to do, but it's up to you not to get angry if he does. If something like that happens, _laisse-le_ , you come and you tell one of the grown-ups. Preferably Aunt Angie or Abuela or Mom, okay?"

They looked at one another again. "Pop, what's lessela?" Alex asked finally.

"Leave him be," Alexander translated. "Sorry. I'll try to avoid French," he muttered, almost to himself. "The point is--he's not mentally ill; he's had a shock. And I don't care what your Tío Phil might have to say, or anything else you might overhear--it's okay if he has tantrums or fits of rage. Don't contribute, but don't get involved if it happens. He's working things out."

"Is he really not going back to his school, though?" Jaime whined.

"He's going back after Thanksgiving," Alexander informed him. "We haven't talked about how yet, but I imagine Mamí will drive him in our car and we four will all get back to New York by train."

"Pop--we're not trying to get into fights--" Alejandro clarified.

"I know you're not. No one is. He's just lashing out, that's all."

"--But what if he says crazy things? Or tells lies?" Alex continued over his father's reassurance.

"Well, what kind of crazy things? And are you sure he's really lying or just telling you the truth as he--"

"No, this was a lie," Jaime insisted, eyes wide with concern.

"Then maybe you should tell me what it was."

The brothers exchanged a near-telepathic series of comments with only their eyebrows and the twist of their lips between their teeth.

Alexander sighed. "I promise, you're not tattling, _mijos_. We need to know this stuff so we can help him...er, process his grief," he finished. He was unable to keep from rolling his eyes at the psychobabble term. He didn't want to label it in a way that fed Jay's fear, but he suspected he wasn't terribly successful at validating Philip's temper. " _Mira_ , I know it can be hard when someone attacks you--"

"Not us," Alejandro explained. "You, Pop."

"Huh?"

"He--" Alex, Jr. broke off, looking at his younger brother. Jay shrugged permission, but Alejandro shook his head. "Nu-uh. _Le dice_ ," he insisted.

"He asked me why I let you come to our room, that night he had the bad dream," Jaime said. "He asked me how I could stand letting you hug me."

"What? Why?"

"I dunno," Jaime shrugged again. "But he said--" he began to cry. "He said you're….."

"It's okay, son. You can tell me."

" _Pervertido_ ," Jay squeaked, and put his head down on folded arms.

" _QUOI?_ " Alexander sputtered. "Where did he get--"

Alejandro took up the narrative. "He said it was like super-gay or something."

"Oh my good god," Alexander groaned. "Fucking Brad--"

"Papi!" Alejandro and Jaime both gasped. 

"Yeah, sorry. Don't tell Mami I swore, okay? _¿Manténgalo entre nosotros vatos, guay?"_ He held out a fist and each of them bumped it soberly. 

"Are we not supposed to hug anymore, Pop?" Jaime asked nervously. 

Alexander ruffled his hair. "No, not at all. Don't worry, _chico_. It's okay. It's fine if you want to hug me, or want me to hug you. It's not 'gay'--not that it's wrong to be gay--I'm your father. You're my sons. I love you and you love me and it's okay to express that. Okay?"

But the truth was, he was putting together the puzzle and Philip's over-reaction now made a little more sense. The trick would be to counteract the boy's mistaken convictions without further feeding his paranoia.

 

~

 

Thursday dawned clear and cold, with frost blanketing the grounds and bare branches of trees along the way to Catherine's church. Three limousines picked up the family that morning; Philip had refused to climb into one until Eliza and Linda offered to go with him. They were also accompanied by Phil and Sarah. Alexander had Angelica, Kitty, Johnny, and Jay with him; Philip and Catherine had Peggy, Grant, and Alex, Jr., in their car. 

In the end, it had been Sarah, and not Eliza, who had convinced Philip to unlock his door. He came down to the kitchen with her about an hour after dinner. Alexander made himself scarce in the office. Reportedly, Philip had turned up his nose at leftover shepherd's pie, so Sarah had poked around in the cabinets until she found a single box of macaroni and cheese, which she prepared on the stovetop while Philip stayed near her in the kitchen. 

This morning, Eliza had instructed the boys to wear their suits and somber clip-on-ties. Philip had scoffed at Alex for not knowing how to tie a real tie, but he had otherwise followed her orders. He ghosted behind either her or his grandmother Linda all morning until the limos had shown up.

The cars pulled up to the church and the family made their way inside. John arrived by cab. He bumped cheeks with Angelica when he joined her in the first two pews. Then he shook hands gravely with Philip and Grant. The church filled behind them, and for the next hour Alexander kept part of his awareness concentrated on maintaining order among the children, and part on being a rock for Eliza and her family. He followed the service mechanically, reminded, as always, of his mother's faith and wishing he could muster anything like its tenacity.

At last, the congregation rose for the final hymn, and he helped the boys file out so that the family could precede everyone into the vestibule to form a receiving line. He was surprised to see a few reporters standing in the back, jotting down notes. Luckily, the church had a policy against photography. As they reached the back, Juan began to fuss. "Look, why don't I take him out to the yard, let him loose for a bit?" he whispered to Eliza. "Do you want me to bring the other two?"

"Probably best," she agreed. 

Peggy, overhearing, said, "We'll be all right, and the boys were really good all through the service."

Alexander scooped up Juan and tapped his namesake's shoulder. "Grab your brother," he said, jerking his head to the side. He grabbed their coats and bundled them up. The church yard had a small play area with single slide, a small see-saw, and sandbox, though the last had been covered up for the winter. The A-frame of a swingset stood at one side of the area, but likewise, the chains and seat had been dismantled. The centerpiece, however, was an interlocking log playhouse complete with a tunnel, monkey bars, and a suspended bridge that swung all of two feet off the ground. The older boys attacked the fort while Juan contentedly climbed and slid down the slide for a solid ten minutes. 

As Alexander shivered on a nearby bench and supervised, a slim figure approached from the front of the church. He was dressed fashionably, with a silk cashmere scarf flapping in the wind, and a long overcoat, and his hair under a slouched beanie was as elegantly coiffed as ever. His shoes had a high-gloss, reddish tint that offset the dark grey trouser legs which came to a point near his ankles. But it was the walk that identified him to Alexander, even before he came close enough to recognize the high cheekbones, the piercing grey eyes, and the full mouth. 

"I don't believe it," Alexander said, getting to his feet.

"Alexandre!" the figure called, waving one hand.

"Gilbert!" Alexander closed the distance and they met at the edge of the playground. Gilbert wrapped surprisingly strong arms around Alexander's wiry frame. The two exchanged a kiss in the French style--one cheek, then the other--then hugged again. "What are you _doing_ here?" Alexander asked breathlessly. He forced himself to separate, aware that the boys were still playing much too close by.

"We 'eard about ze plane in Paris," he explained. "Adrienne and I 'ave to come over for ze Rockefeller benefit nex' mons', so I sink, we come early a little. Pay our respects."

"She's with you? And the girls? Georges?"

"Virginie, yes, Henriette and Anastasie, zey prefer to stay in New York. Georges, 'e is 'ere, too. 'E tells me 'e wish to look at universities while we're 'ere. Columbia, _comme son père, hein_?"

"Eliza will be so pleased to see you--all of you," said Alexander. 

"And you?" Gilbert asked flirtatiously. His eyes drifted down along Alexander's collar and back up. He seemed about to lean in, but at that moment, they heard excited shouts from the playground.

"Uncle Gil!" Alejandro. cried, bounding over. Jaime followed with excitement. Only Juan was less than impressed. He sat atop the slide and cried for his father.

" _Je m'excuse_ ," Alexander said under his breath. He went to coax Juan down off the slide, while his older sons bombarded his old friend. "C'mon, Johnny, there's someone here you should meet," he called. Juan continued crying, but slid down the metal ramp into Alexander's arms. Alexander carried him over. "Juan Lorenzo Hamilton, this is your Uncle Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette."

"Enchanté!" Gilbert intoned, offering his hand. Juan regarded him with suspicion but eventually allowed his hand to be shaken. Alexander and Gilbert both laughed.

"Did you bring us Swiss chocolate?" Jaime asked without preamble.

The men laughed again. "Jaime!" Alexander admonished. "Obviously they have turned into self-serving little monsters since you saw them last," he explained. He set Juan down and readjusted his coat and mittens.

"Zat or I left an impression which time could not dull," Gilbert claimed instead. 

"What about the chocolate?" Jaime whined.

" _Non, mon petit, pas de chocolat_ ," Gilbert apologized, "But 'oo knows? Even 'ere zer are shops, if one knows where to look."

"Don't spoil them," Alexander pleaded. But he laughed again and threw his arm about Gilbert's shoulders. "I still can't believe you came."

He was rewarded with a French shrug. "We sought you and Eliza might appreciate it. And it is good to see Angelique again. She and Jean need to visit us in Paris."

"Tell her that yourself. We should head back, anyway. Boys, let's go see if Mamí's done with all the people wanting to talk to her."

As they walked back, Alex and Jaime ran ahead. Juan kept hold of Alexander's hand and tottled along beside him. Gilbert said in French, " _And I hoped that perhaps you and I might spend some time alone, if you can manage it._ "

" _Much as I would love to, I'm just not sure it's--a good time. With all the family here--_ "

" _Ah, but you have the perfect excuse, and Adrienne I am certain would enjoy a visit to the Schuylers. She and Virginie and Georges could keep your family entertained for an evening, surely?_ " His hand rubbed along Alexander's spine--just for a moment--but enough to quicken Alexander's pulse.

" _We'll see. I have to clear it with Eliza_."

" _Bien sûr_ ," agreed Gilbert. They came back inside the church. Nearly everyone had gone; Catherine and Philip were speaking with the minister, while Eliza, Angelica, and John were chatting with Adrienne. Kitty and Virginie sat in a pew near the back, heads together over something. Georges had pulled out a book, but he greeted Alex and Jaime when they came in. 

"There you are!" Eliza said. "Gilbert, I was just telling Adrienne that you should come back to the reception."

"Yes, absolutely." He kissed Adrienne hello.

"It's been too long," she said affectionately. 

"We let one of the cars go, so we might be a bit of a crush in the other two," Eliza began.

"Gilbert, why don't we take Kitty with us," said Adrienne, "we've our car here and it's no trouble."

Eliza thanked them and set about getting her father squared away in one of the limousines. Soon they were underway to the reception hall. 

After threading through a few more reporters and camera operators, both video and still, they joined the crowd of friends and acquaintances. The boys went straight for the catered sideboard, and for the next hour or so, they were separated as Alexander stayed close to Eliza and her family. The airline had sent a representative, as well, who intoned platitudes with too practiced a mask of concern. As the people thinned out, Alexander kissed her cheek and murmured that he would be back shortly. He touched Gilbert's sleeve. Wordlessly, he led his friend away from the mourners and into a small side room. 

Gilbert locked the door and drew the blinds. "Not too long," Alexander cautioned, but Gilbert only nodded and closed in to kiss him deeply. They sank together onto the room's compact sofa. Gilbert covered him from waist to neck as he fell backward against the sofa's arm.

"You didn't answer my emails," Gilbert complained softly. "I've not seen you on ze chat. I begin to sink you 'ad changed your mind about our arrangement."

"No, but--it's been busy. And I'm not exactly free to just get away anytime." 

"Of course." Gilbert nodded. 

"And I'm not the one who needs comfort right now," he added, sitting up. "Eliza is."

Gilbert's mouth twitched in an assessing frown. "Am I a comfort to you?"

"Yes and more and you know it," he said with an eyeroll, and stood up to put himself back together. "You know what I mean. I'm...not the one grieving. I mean, it's sad when people as young as Brad and Beth die, but--"

"You never liked 'im." Gilbert straightened his tie and smoothed down his lapels.

"No." He ran his hand through his hair to roughly comb it back into shape. "But then, he never liked me, either."

"What of ze boy? I saw 'im wiz Senator Schuyler. 'Ave you no empathy for 'im?"

"Of course," said Alexander with a sigh. "I don't begrudge anyone their grief. But Philip…. I don't know. There's something wrong there. Something more than mourning."

"Tell me."

Alexander shook his head. "We should get back."

"Alex."

"I can't tell for sure--he's going to a grief counselor but I don't know if it'll be obvious to her."

" _Qu'est-ce qui ce passe_?"

He capitulated reluctantly. " _Je pense…_ I think Brad might have...abused Philip."

It was the first time he'd said it aloud, even to himself, and it felt like a betrayal not only of Brad, but of the whole Schuyler clan. Sure enough, the way Gilbert's face darkened, his eyebrows drew together, was all the admonition Alexander needed. He flushed in shame for entertaining it.

"Why do you say zis?" his friend asked.

Alexander explained the fear, the over-reactions, Philip's ideas regarding masculinity as communicated to Jaime, and Philip's own attitude on the night of his nightmare. Gilbert listened without comment. "I don't know--maybe I'm the one overreacting," Alexander concluded as he finished relating his evidence. "But it seems clear to me that Philip has some--some problems that are going to follow him into any custody decision. Eliza's pushing for us to take him but--"

" _You're afraid he'll have a harder time adjusting given how nervous he is of you_ ," GIlbert supplied in French.

" _Oui_ ," said Alexander glumly. 

" _But he's not frightened of his grandparents? Or his uncle?_ "

"He's...reserved but I haven't seen him freak out, exactly."

"Ah." Gilbert leaned back and spread his hands before tucking them into the crooks of his elbows.

"What does 'Ah' mean?" Alexander asked with a rising shoulder.

"It mean...per'aps 'e is not frightened of all men."

"Just me."

" _Exactement._."

"Fucking awesome."

"You said it was not an opportune time for zat," Gilbert smirked.

"Oh, ha-ha. My point is that he needs--" 

But what Philip needed, in Alexander's estimation, would have to wait. They were interrupted by a knock, and a young man's voice. " _Papa? Êtes-vous là-bas_?"

Both Gilbert and Alexander snorted with laughter. " _Oui, oui, je suis ici, un moment_ ," the Frenchman answered. He unlocked the door and opened it to reveal his teenaged son. 

" _Maman et Madame Hamilton said we're going back to the house_ ," Georges explained in rapid French. " _Personne ne pourrait vous trouver_." He slid his eyes away from his father to smile shyly at Alexander.  " _Désolé, Oncle Alex_ ," he muttered.

" _De rien,_ " Alexander assured him. As they emerged from the side room back into the parlor, their wives beamed at them. Alexander went straight to Adrienne. "You're kind to let me borrow him," he apologized.

"Not at all--I know 'ow you two are when you're togezzer," she laughed. "Nothing but reminiscence and reliving former glory. _Quel ennui!_ "

"We were talking about New York," Gilbert said to her and to Eliza. "And whether we might all see each ozzer _à Noël_."

Alejandro, hearing this, immediately picked up on the possibilities. "Can we, Dad?" he asked. 

"We'll probably come back up here--at least for a little while," Alexander answered, with a warning look at Gilbert. "But we'll see."

 

~

 

Back at the Schuyler house, Philip insisted that everyone come into the library for a drink to toast his son's memory. Virginie and Georges each had a small glass of wine, which prompted Kitty, Alex, Philip, and Jaime to each ask for their own. "You can have a sip of mine," Eliza offered Jaime, and Alexander let Alex sniff his Scotch (with predictable results). Philip cozied up to Linda, who let him sample her drink, while Kitty was given a small glass of sherry. Georges immediately found a high-backed chair near the window and went back to reading. Kitty invited Virginie up to her room. "Johnny, you are too tired, baby," Eliza told their youngest, which was followed by a professed cry from him that he was not at all, which was followed by Catherine offering to take him upstairs to read. Jay and Alex asked to go watch TV. "Yes, all right," their mother said. Juan chose TV over reading, unsurprisingly. "Philip, do you want to go, too?"

"No," Philip said. He drifted over to Georges, where he talked to him quietly about his book. Georges seemed to tolerate this with the long-suffering attitude of a teen who would rather be anywhere else, but had been raised to uncharacteristic politeness.

"How do you all know each other?" Grant asked the Lafayettes.

"Oh, Gilbert and Alexandre 'ave been friends since university," Adrienne said. "Computers make it so easy zese days to stay on touch."

"In touch," Gilbert corrected gently. "I 'ave business interests in America, particularly New York, Philadelphia, and ze capitol, so I visit frequently. I would 'ave been at Alexandre and Eliza's wedding but--" he shrugged elegantly-- "Zat was shortly after Virginie was born."

"I keep telling you, you can give me a skyscraper to make it up to us," Eliza teased. "And you and Angelica keep promising to whisk me over to Paris--I will hold you to it yet."

"Lizzie's right--we really should do that soon," Angelica said. "The point is, Mr. Hunter, that we all regard the Lafayettes as family. They're Alexander's family." She caught his eye; in hers, he saw the glossy shine of tears which she refused to shed. He swallowed back a sudden wave of gratitude and nodded to her.

"It's odd that we see each other more here in the States than in Europe," John put in. He took Angelica's hand. "That's the problem with busy lives, isn't it."

"How much longer are you and Angelica staying?" Linda asked.

John looked at his wife. "I'm able to stay through the week-end," he said apologetically, "and we've not yet discussed whether I shall be returning alone or accompanied."

"Philip's second appointment isn't until Monday," she replied. "And Thanksgiving's right around the corner."

"Precisely," John agreed. "Which is why I think perhaps it would be best if you were to stay another week."

"Well, Linda and I have been talking about the same decision," Grant put in. "We're of two minds. Perhaps now's as good a time as any for us all to talk about it."

"I wanted to stay until we'd reached a decision," Linda added. "But now that the memorial's done--and we want to have a small service of our own down in Newport--"

"You're leaving?" Philip interjected from across the room. They all turned to focus on the child, who had gone pale grey at the news. "You can't. You can't go."

Linda blushed. "Philip, sweetheart, we're not going anywhere yet, but--"

The eight-year-old stamped his foot. "You said I was going home with you!" he raged. "You _said!_ " Then he ran out of the room in tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus in between chapters! I was traveling, and then I scored not one but TWO awesome Yuletide pinch hits that I wish I could talk about, but I can't, because they're still secret. 
> 
> Thanks as ever to my wonderful beta, kikibug13, for being a sounding board and occasional French double-checker (it's been approximately a million years since I used French on anything like a regular basis).
> 
> This may well be the last update for a while, but don't panic. I'm hard at work on subsequent chapters, but I know Yuletide is coming up and we'll all want to dive in to the dozens of yummy fics and treats in store, so I may just hold off on posting while I devour a lot of other people's work (and continue to write ahead, of course). There's always a chance I'll jump ahead in the writing and post, anyway... much depends on holidays and other factors. It could happen!
> 
> Your feedback means a great deal, so please keep sending it!
> 
>  **Translations**  
>  Comprends - Understand  
> Claro - Clear  
> Le dice - you tell him  
> Manténgalo entre nosotros vatos, guay - Keep it between us bros, okay  
> comme son père - like his father  
> Enchanté - Nice to meet you  
> Non, mon petit, pas de chocolat - No, little one, no chocolate  
> Qu'est-ce qui ce passe - What is it  
> Papa? Êtes-vous là-bas - Papa? Are you (in) there  
> Oui, oui, je suis ici, un moment - Yes, I'm here, one second  
> Personne ne pourrait vous trouver - No one could find you  
> Désolé, Oncle Alex - Sorry, Uncle Alex  
> Quel ennui - How boring


	5. The Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild trigger warnings for PTSD and ethnic slurs.

After Philip stormed out, the library erupted with accusations. Gilbert and Adrienne excused themselves and Georges, who had already closed his book and moved to the door anticipating their retreat. Alexander went with them to the foyer, while the others argued over Philip. 

"Are you going straight back to New York tomorrow?" Alexander asked them.

"Per'aps, or ze day after," Adrienne answered with a telling look at the two men. "Georges, go tell your sister we're leaving. You remember where Kitty's room is?" Once the teenager slouched up the stairs and out of sight, she threaded her arms through each of theirs. " _It might be more convenient for you to wait until December, hm? But you'll let us know if you two plan to steal away, I hope._ "

" _You are both wise and patient, my love,_ " Gilbert said to her. " _Alexandre, if you need to talk, even if you think it imprudent to get away--_ "

"I've got the hotel information," Alexander confirmed. "But I think New York will work out better for everyone. _Désolé, Adrienne_."

Instead of answering right away, she gazed lovingly upon Gilbert. "I know I have no cause for doubt," she assured them. "Only concern for you both."

Alexander might have said more, but at that moment, they overheard a shout from the library. It sounded suspiciously like Eliza. A moment later, Peggy crept into the hallway. "You better get in there," she said on seeing Alexander. "I think I've only seen her this angry twice before, and one of those was when she was 16 and Brad ruined her prom date. I'mma go see where Philip went."

"Right. Well. It wouldn't be a Schuyler affair without some drama. Sorry you had to get caught in it," Alexander told Gilbert and Adrienne.

"It's all right. Don't wait for us," said Gilbert. "We'll see you soon. _À bientôt_."

Alexander walked in on a scene that would not have been out of place in a Russian novel. Mainly, it was the women who were arguing while the men looked on in a combination of horror and helplessness. Phil had retreated to a corner; John sat, arms crossed, staying out of the way; Philip Sr. was seated at the table, his hands steepled and pressed to his lips as if thinking; Grant had his arms protectively around Linda. Linda was in the middle of a sentence, Sarah was trying to calm her down, and Angelica had squared off against Linda and was speaking over her angrily, but, as always, Alexander's eyes were drawn to his wife. She was seated on one of the sofas with her forehead buried in her hands. From the rise and fall of her shoulders, she was taking deep breaths. Whether it was in an effort not to cry, or not to fly at Linda, he couldn't tell.

"The fuck is going on in here?" he demanded, bringing everyone to a halt. "Jesus. What did you think was going to happen when you said you were leaving?"

"I said we were _thinking_ about--"

"Like that matters to him," Alexander shot back. "And what the hell were you doing making promises to him? Like not having to go back to school?"

"We never told him that," Grant put in. 

"Well, someone gave him the idea," Angelica said. "Alexander's right--we have to all work together, present a unified front."

"Can I say something?" Phil piped up from the corner. He waited until they were all fixed on him to continue. "You're fighting over him like--like it matters more to you who's right, and less about what's right for him. Maybe Philip shouldn't go back to boarding school. Maybe it's exactly the kind of structure he needs right now. I don't know. But forgive me, Mr. and Mrs. Hunter, I don't think Newport's the right place for him, either."

"Whyever not?" Linda asked haughtily. 

"Yeah," Phil said, as if her response was the entire explanation all on its own. "Look, Brad was my brother--my big brother," he repeated softly, in a struggle to stay in control. "And I can't pretend we were raised with much in the way of…. I mean, we weren't raised in a stereotypical home," he revised, avoiding his father's eye. "We've been lucky to be well off. Some people might even tell us that we're not 'black enough' because our mother's Asian-American and none of us have ever lived in a ghetto. I get why they say it, even if it's an oversimplification. But ever since Brad met Beth…. I don't know how else to put it, but he tried to--to erase his culture. Especially when it came to raising Philip. I don't doubt that you care about him, or that you could give him every possible advantage. But the one thing you _can't_ do for him is help him navigate the experience of being a multi-racial child. I'm sorry, I hate to say it so baldly. But if you raise him, y'all gon' raise him white."

The statement hung in silence while everyone studied their laps, their shoes, the walls--anything but look in one another's eyes. Alexander watched Phil, who was as embarrassed as everyone else--but who nonetheless held his ground proudly, locked almost at attention. Despite the bombshell, Alexander found his respect for Phil climbing more than one notch.

But it was Grant who found his voice first. "Your wife is also white," he observed, tightly, as if aware that he stood on shaky ground.

"Yes, she is," Phil agreed. "We're blended the same way Brad and Beth were. Which is why of anyone here--we think we're the best suited to take care of him."

"We've already sent in our position to Ms. Hochstein," Sarah added, taking Phil's hand. "We were planning to ask how Philip feels about it, before we said anything, but--well, I think it'd help if we could all agree and stop fighting over him. And it would help him adjust if he knew where he's going. Then we could all present that united front that Angelica mentioned."

Alexander took care to keep his face neutral as he assessed the others' expressions. Grant and Linda were still scandalized, not surprisingly; Philip gazed with quiet pride in his son's interest in Philip's well-being. Catherine's smile was more enigmatic, but her eyes twinkled with unshed tears. Only Eliza looked stricken by the news. The betrayal on her face instantly raised feelings of guilt to mingle with Alexander's own relief. He told himself she would adjust to the disappointment, and that not taking Philip in would, in the long run, simplify everyone's lives.

"So we're not wanted here, is that it?" Linda snapped.

"Linda, no," said Catherine, speaking as she did: rarely, but with measured grace. "Phil meant no disrespect, did you, Phil?"

"No," he offered with a knowing smile. "Some of my best friends are white."

His mother gave him a quelling look that Alexander well recognized on Eliza's face. "What my son is saying, Linda, is that you and Grant have rather...assumed that you can dictate what's next for our grandson. Now, just because Sarah and Phil have expressed their desire, that doesn't mean the executrix will decide in their favor. But if we all agree and work from that basis, then they have a point: we will send Philip far fewer mixed signals. Don't you think that's best?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Hunter, if I might offer a spot of perspective," John interjected, "I do believe it's helpful in these circumstances to think not of one's own investment but of the collective good. Don't think of it as a personal loss; think of the home that Philip stands to gain."

"It's not as if anyone's suggesting that you never see him," Angelica prompted.

"Oh, God, no!" Sarah added quickly. "In fact, we really liked Alexander's suggestion that he still go to Newport during the summers--if he wants to." Phil nodded. "We never meant to imply that we wanted you out of his life--any of us. We're still all family."

Linda appeared about to say something else, but Grant rubbed her shoulders reassuringly. "Let's talk about it together, honey," he requested. "And we'll talk to Philip. Maybe if we stay a few more days it'll help him see he's not being abandoned."

"Stay through Thanksgiving, if you like," Catherine offered. "We can manage."

"We'll see," Grant said. But at least the argument seemed, for the moment, to be over. And unless Alexander missed his guess, the custody question was, too.

But as he watched everyone come up with things to do to break up the gathering, he caught sight of Angelica's eyes. She directed him wordlessly to look again at Eliza, who still appeared dejected. Evidently, she had also allowed her hopes to grow disproportionately--and few obstacles ever stood in her way for long. So perhaps things weren't as resolved as he'd hoped, after all.

 

~

 

"I don't get it," Jaime pronounced, after complaining that Philip had once again locked himself in their room after his tantrum. "Phil doesn't even _like_ them." Of all his sons, Alexander knew, Jaime was possibly the most like him in occasional lapses of tact. At times he felt he owed the world an apology for his blunt middle child.

"Well, first off, I'm sure that's not entirely true," Eliza said. She and Alexander had sat down in the family room with the boys piled around them to watch a movie, but at Jay's comment, she paused the videotape to talk about Philip's outburst. "And second, right now, I'm sure any change is bound to bother him. Can you blame him for feeling insecure?"

"I don't _blame_ him, Mom, I just don't _get_ it."

"Well, how would you feel if--if you lost us, and Aunt Angelica came to visit but then had to go home?"

"That's different; we _love_ her." He jutted out his chin in a pose Alexander painfully recognized.

"And he loves them, deep down," Eliza insisted.

"But--"

"People are complicated, buddy," Alexander put in. "It's possible to love someone and not like them at the same time."

Jaime narrowed skeptical eyes at his father, but it was Juan who spoke first. "That's weird," he declared.

"Yeah, it is," Alexander agreed. "But we're not always one thing at a time. _Mira_ , you love your brothers, right?"

They all nodded.

"But what about when one of your brothers wants to play with the same toy you're using? Or you can't agree on which movie to watch?"

"Movie!" said Juan, reminding them that they were supposed to be engaged in just that.

Meanwhile, the older boys' scowls said everything. Alejandro, finally said, "Okay. You're saying he doesn't necessarily like his grandparents but he knows they love him and he doesn't want them to go away." He looked at Jay. "It's like that teacher you hated two years ago."

"Miss Getzoff?"

"Yeah."

"You loved Miss Getzoff!" Eliza said. "You cried when you found out you weren't going to be in her class the next year."

"Yeah, but first he hated her," Alex, Jr. revealed. 

"Whoa, wait, when was all this?" both Alexander and Eliza asked. 

Their sons shrugged. "She was really mean at first," Jay said.

"You didn't tell us!" Eliza looked at Alexander. "Did he tell you any of this?"

"Mom, it's okay," Alex said. "We didn't--we didn't want you to worry about it. We handled it."

Alexander could only look on in bemusement at how much they reminded him of him. 

Jay took up the story. "Yeah, you and Dad were all worried about Juanito, anyway. Because of his Asimov."

"Asthma," Alexander corrected, suppressing laughter. Juan, meanwhile, whined loudly that he wanted to start the movie again. He reached for the VHS controller but Eliza shushed him again and kept it out of his reach.

"Asthma," Jay enunciated. "Anyway, I figured it out. She wasn't mean like, Miss Wormwood mean, she was just, kinda, a little, um…." he looked at Alex.

"Sarcastic," Alejandro supplied. 

"Yeah. That. Once I figured out that she didn't hate us, she was really funny. So...Phil's grandparents are like that?"

Alexander let out a closed-mouthed sigh. "Well, let's just say that they're used to treating children differently. He's also all they have left of their daughter, and that's a hard thing for a grown-up to have to bear. So they don't treat him like they treat you, or even us."

"Yeah, it's like when you go over to Micah's place," Alex continued, "and you can't stand his dad, but Micah thinks he's the best."

"Yeah, okay," Jaime allowed. 

"Fascinating as these revelations are," Alexander said, "I think we should watch the movie."

"Movie! Movie! Movie!" added Juan.

Angelica and John came down the stairs and settled in to join them. "Philip's come out," she commented. "Grant and Linda thought maybe they'd take him out for dinner, just the three of them and explain that they're only _thinking_ about when to go." 

"So what's the plan for the rest of us?" Eliza asked.

Angelica shrugged. "We've got all those leftovers from the reception. Mom'll make them into stir-fry or something; she's getting more groceries delivered tomorrow."

"Can't hear!" Juan interjected.

"Shh, Johnny," Eliza admonished, but she lifted him off her lap and she and Alexander moved closer to the extra-wide chair John and Angelica were sharing.

"I just wish Linda hadn't made him any promises," Alexander said. 

"I know," said Eliza, nodding. "And I wish--" she broke off with a glance toward the boys. Juan was already engrossed again, but Alex and Jay both turned their heads to the screen far too quickly to have been watching. Eliza whispered: "I wish I felt better about Sarah and Phil taking him," she confided. 

"Steady on, Elizabeth," John said gently. "I'm sure they weighed their qualifications carefully."

"It's not that. I'm worried this means they're--giving up on their own."

"Or they're looking at this as some kind of practice," Angelica put in. "But I guess we'll have to wait and see."

"I'd no idea you two thought so little of your brother," John observed. 

"Oh, stop. We love Phil, it's just--"

"Then give him a chance," John said softly. "My darlings, you are not the only competent Schuylers." He raised an eyebrow at Alexander, who nodded.

"I am Switzerland on this," he said gravely. "John's right that your parents have raised all of you to be pretty awesome, but with varying degrees of success. You two are right that you're the most awesome of all."

"We'll get you in the diplomatic corps yet, Mr. Hamilton," John answered. Then when they laughed, Juan called for quiet again, and they went back to watching the film.

 

~

 

After the kids' bedtime that night, Alexander called Gilbert at the hotel.

"Are matters calm there now?" his friend asked.

"We've...reached something of a truce," Alexander said, briefly noting the revelations and events that had occupied their evening. "So, now my only problem is that Eliza's unhappy about it."

"Why should she be?" Gilbert asked.

"She'd got used to the idea of adding Philip to our household, I think. And she hates to lose."

"So sweet but so fierce," chuckled Gilbert. "Does zis mean you are...available to get away?"

"You're insatiable," Alexander scoffed. "I--maybe I'll come meet you at the bar for a drink. Just a drink!" he insisted as Gilbert began to wheedle.

"I'll be a perfect gentleman," he promised instead. "Twenty minutes?"

"Sure." He went to tell Eliza.

"Going out?" She frowned. "How long?"

"I dunno. A couple hours, maybe. I promise, just drinks, that's all."

"You know there are still reporters everywhere," she reminded him. 

"Yeah. I know."

"You understand?" she pressed. Her mouth was a thin line.

"Yes," he said solemnly. "Look, if you want me not to go--"

"No, it's--fine," she said. "Really, it's all right."

"Bets--"

"Go. See your--friend," she bit out the word. "You've been dealing with all of us, you deserve a little time to yourself." 

"Are you sure?" he asked one more time. "I can cancel."

"No. I'd rather you--get it out of your system."

He bent and kissed her forehead. "I'll be back before you know I'm gone."

She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. 

Gilbert was waiting at a discreet little table off to one side of the hotel's bar. When Alexander sat opposite him, they were nearly shielded from view of the entrance. He hoped this meant that Gilbert had already scouted and found no reporters lurking around, still working on their stories about the plane crash funerals and the notables attending them, but the bar looked fairly deserted, even for after nine.

"Adrienne upstairs?" he asked as he slid into the bench seat.

" _Oui_. And Eliza? She is, 'ow you say, coping?"

"Eh, she's not happy I skipped out to see you. But that's more because she's upset about Phil and Sarah, I think, and--well, like I said, she's needing a lot of support."

"I will not tempt you, zen," Gilbert promised. "I shan't even suggest zat we obtain anozzer 'otel room __."

"Gil."

" _Je sais, je sais_ ," he chuckled. "I am only teasing. I can wait."

"Yeah. About that--I think maybe we should cool it in December, too."

Gilbert blinked. "Why?"

Alexander expelled a deep breath. "Because--" he was interrupted by their waiter, a cute, thin twink of about 20. Alexander tried not to let his gaze linger on the young man's chocolatey throat under his tuxedo shirt and bow tie, or his long fingers as he served them water and took their drink orders. As the young man swished away, Alexander cleared his throat. "Because I got a call from the White House. I think the thing we talked about all those years ago is about to happen."

" _Vraiment?_ " Gilbert asked, eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. "Well, you sought per'aps since 'e won ze election, 'e would ask."

"Yeah. I can't tell the firm yet--and I can't afford to be...caught doing anything...non-conformist."

"You're about to 'elp create legislation zat will change ze face of AIDS treatment, of equal rights for sousands of people. Zat will lead ze way for se world. Ze 'ole point of zat is zat zere is nussing 'non-conformist' about--people like us." As he spoke, Gilbert leaned forward so he could be quiet, but even he could not quite bring himself to be carried away by his rhetoric.

"That's true. But the one thing I know for sure that will end it before it even starts is if I get involved in some dumbass scandal."

Gilbert pursed his lips. " _Que raisonnable_ ," he said, sounding disappointed. "So, your Eliza is upset about per'aps not adopting Philip after all, and you are not disappointed, and so she is also disappointed in you for not being disappointed."

"Yep. That pretty much covers it."

" _Mon ami_ ," Gilbert concluded affectionately, "What can one say? _T'es foutu_."

"Well, who knows. At least now I don't have to worry about why Philip's so afraid of me--me and not anyone else."

Gilbert made a noise, and a face, that made Alexander pull up short. 

"What?" he asked.

"I said nussing," Gilbert claimed innocently.

" _Tonterías_ ," Alexander accused. "I don't mean that like--like I don't care. I just…." he shrugged. "If it's not going to be in my house, then _no es mi problema_. If Philip has deeper traumas...they'll figure it out."

Gilbert drummed his fingers absently against the table, lips puckered in a pouting sort of frown. " _Bon_ ," he said finally, when their drinks arrived. "So you avoid a situation zat make you uncomfortable," he concluded.

"I'm not--avoiding anything," Alexander replied. "And I'm not uncomfortable. Peggy said something similar. I--I can't help him if he's going to fight me. He doesn't seem to fight Phil, so... fine. Let them be a happy family. What's wrong with that?"

" _Rien_ ," Gilbert allowed. "Let's drink to your new future, zen, Alexandre. Equal rights and no complications."

Alexander snorted into his highball. "You of all people should know there's no such thing as no complications." He leaned back against the banquette. "What am I going to do about Betsey?" he mused. "She's so upset, and we haven't even heard a ruling from the probate yet. What if after all this, that lawyer decides he's better off with Linda and Grant?"

"Zen, you accept it and make sure 'e knows 'e can always come to any of ze Schuylers."

"Yeah." He took a sip. "You really think I'm backing away from Philip because it makes me uncomfortable?"

"I didn't say so," said Gilbert, although he had said exactly that. "I say... you 'ave ze luck to escape. It does make you uncomfortable, zat mush is clear. But as you say, if 'e goes to anozzer 'ome…." He shrugged. "You 'ave only to avoid 'im forever until 'e decides you are no longer frightening." He swigged his booze and leaned back, arms spread over the lip of the booth.

"That's just fucking unfair," Alexander replied. "I'm not suggesting that it never needs to be addressed. It just means there's time to figure out what's wrong."

"You could ask 'im."

"I have!" Alexander looked around the bar nervously because he'd raised his voice more than he wanted. "I've tried," he hissed. "I can't get him to trust me, and he won't tell Ange or Bets. Maybe once he's settled he'll feel brave enough to tell Phil or Sarah so we can dispel whatever it is." He took a drink and signaled the waiter for another round. "Like I don't already suspect what it is," he muttered.

"Oh? You said 'e had been abused."

"Could be. Or it could just be that Brad's filled his head with more macho bullshit, or some black vs. brown fuckery."

"Maybe ze macho bullshit is a defense against ze abuse," Gilbert suggested.

"Yeah, that's possible, too. Or maybe Brad was always something of a prick on the subject of gays. AIDS. You know--the majority of my legislative agenda."

He fell silent and Gilbert was content to let things sit for a while. The waiter breezed by; Gilbert sent him scurrying for another round; he returned. Was it Alexander's imagination or was Gil flirting a little?

"Can you...not?" Alexander complained. He indicated the waiter with his eyes.

"What?" Gilbert protested. "I'm not doing anysing."

"Tell that to someone who wasn't your wingman for three years in the Village. You're making contact," Alexander insisted. "I just said, I have to play things cool for a while."

"Zen play it cool. 'E doesn't matter."

"He matters if tomorrow he runs into a reporter doing follow-up on all the people who came to see Senator Schuyler's son's memorial."

"Don't be paranoid," Gilbert cautioned. " _Personne ne s'y intéresse_."

"Gil, maybe it's different in France, but here, people do care--they care very much about gossip and butting into other people's lives. They just love a scandal."

"Oh, _oui_ , it's so in France as well," he said with a shrug.

"Well, then don't you think you could be more discreet?" Alexander asked. "I mean, you're not exactly unknown, and while I'm obscure now, I can't imagine the vetting process is gonna go easy just because I'm an old associate. And--"

"Alex. If zis arrangement is a problem--"

"No. It's not. I mean, it wouldn't be normally, but just right now, it's...It's--"

"Complicated?" Gilbert asked with a wolfish grin.

"Oh shut up," Alexander laughed. "Okay, enough about that. No stress. What's going on with you?"

They passed an agreeable hour catching up, talking about potential Christmas get-togethers for the families. Finally, Alexander looked at his watch. "I promised I'd get back," he apologized, but then caught Gilbert once again checking out the cute waiter. "Looks like I'm a third wheel, anyway. Are you making plans?"

"Zer's no law against looking," Gilbert murmured, eyes still locked on the small round behind of their server.

"Nope. Just like I said, be careful not to bring anything home."

But Gilbert rose after signing the bar tab to his room. "Non--Adrienne would 'ave my 'ead." They walked out to the lobby with its collection of seating areas. "I do worry, Alex, zat you are pushing yourself too 'ard. Remember zis is 'ow it was three years ago. Before--"

"Before that kid. And Maria. Yeah. It's not like that, though. It's just I've been really preoccupied with work and this whole Philip thing. And you're not my only chat partner--but there really hasn't been the time. After the holidays--after the State of the Union--things should get back on a more even keel."

Gilbert grunted in what might have been skepticism, though he smiled as if he meant to be reassuring. "I believe you. But I also know you, and you drive yourself 'ard and forget to take care of your own needs, hein? Do call me, once you 'ave spoken wis' Eliza about ze 'olidays. Or if you need to talk about anysing else, for zat matter. And--leave time for ze chat room?"

" _Absolument_ ," agreed Alexander. They bid farewell with a _baiser_ and Alexander made his way to his car and Eliza's warm bed.

He wasn't being unreasonable, he told himself as he pulled out of the hotel garage and made the short trip back to the house. At this hour, even the highways along the river were nearly deserted. He wasn't putting himself before Philip. Whatever Philip's problem with him was, it would be easier solved at a distance and over time. The more he thought about it, the more he grew convinced that Phil and Sarah taking care of him would be the best possible outcome.

 

~

 

The next few days passed in relative quiet. Grant and Linda did decide to leave on Saturday, after reassuring Philip that they were only a phone call away. Angelica drove John back to the airport on Sunday, so that he could be back in London by Monday morning Greenwich time. The airline called to say that they were sending the initial report to all the victims' families, if they wanted it, and that they would be forwarding papers with information about the families' rights and the company's indemnities. Philip asked about the remains and was told that it could be weeks before they had them sorted. "As we recover anything, we're having it tested. We know it's important to their families that we return each passenger's remains as completely as possible," they were told. 

"I'm so relieved we went ahead with the memorial," Eliza said.

Philip went to his second meeting with the counselor, this time accompanied by Sarah and Phil. Since the confrontation on the day of the funeral, they had made a much better effort to coordinate Philip's care--and for the most part, the others were happy to defer to the younger couple. Feeling some measure of control over the boy even seemed to improve Phil's attitude toward Alexander, too. He no longer scowled in his direction or avoided joint activities with him and the kids. Philip himself was still a bit skittish, but as long as he was in a group with the others, and especially with at least one of the women, he began to come out of his shell more and more. 

So when they came home from the second counselling session, they were all grateful to see him smiling and leaning in to Sarah's protective touch. He and Jay spent more time together companionably, too, which made both Eliza and Alexander let out a breath of relief.

On Wednesday at lunch, he asked if everyone could go to the movies. It was the day before Thanksgiving and the TV had been blaring ads for a whole a new, completely computer-generated family film from a brand-new studio called Pixar. "Can we all go?" he asked.

"Is this it? _Toy Story_?" Phil asked, flipping through the papers. He, Sarah, Jay, and Philip had gone to the study, where Alexander was working at the computer, to look up the listings. "It's...about toys coming to life, or something? Sounds pretty lame."

"Actually, it sounds pretty awesome," Sarah said brightly. "Didn't any of you ever wonder if toys could come to life when you weren't there to see it? We used to have a whole series of adventures, my sister and I, about what our Barbies did when we were asleep and stuff."

"I don't wanna see a movie about _Barbies!_ " Jay protested.

"It's not about Barbies, dummy, it's about a spaceman toy," Philip countered, pointing to the advert in the paper.

"I'm not a dummy!" cried Jay, visibly hurt.

"It's just an expression, don't be a sissy--"

"Hey," Alexander said sharply as he looked up from the computer screen. "Philip. _No guay, chico_."

"I don't speak Mexican," Philip said. The corner of his mouth curled in a disdainful snarl. "Why do you always talk in another language? You know it's not polite to use a language other people can't speak in front of them. This is America; you should talk English."

Through gritted teeth, Alexander rebuked the eight-year-old boy with forced calm. He ignored the slight against himself to focus on his treatment of Jay. _One corrective action at a time_ , he reasoned. "Philip, first of all, don't call other people stupid; it's not okay. It's also not okay to call someone a sissy--or to disrespect your elders. Especially when they haven't earned your disrespect. I'd like you to apologize to Jaime."

But Philip crossed his arms. "You're not my dad and you're _not_ in charge. I'm gonna live with Uncle Phil so he's the only one who can--"

"That's just not how it works, Philip," Alexander interrupted. He lifted his eyebrows to Phil as if to induce him to back him up.

"Philip, you should know that your Uncle Alexander can't stand it when anyone contradicts him," Phil said slowly. "And he really hates it when people call attention to his heritage. I'd go easy if I were you."

Alexander was so shocked that he could barely do more than gape at Phil. Sarah had the grace to look a little ashamed, but Phil met his eye in an unspoken challenge. 

"As for Jay," Phil continued without looking away from Alexander, "it's not his fault he's being raised soft. Your Aunt Lizzie's kinda indulgent that way. But I guess your Uncle's right: it's not nice to call people names."

Philip scowled with one corner of his mouth. "I didn't mean to call you dumb," he said to Jay. "Or a sissy. I guess."

Jay looked to Alexander before responding. Alexander fought to wipe the rage off his face and instead nod surreptitiously to his middle child. There was no point in escalating whatever Phil had chosen to do here. At least not with the boys there to get caught in the crossfire.

Jay held out his hand. "No hard feelings," he offered.

Philip shook hands limply, dropping the contact as quickly as polite. "Whatever," he muttered. "So, can we still go to the movie?"

Alexander began to say, "Tell you what--" when his request to discuss it with Phil and Sarah died on his lips, because Phil only shrugged and said, "Don't see why not, if you want to."

Philip whooped and bounced on his toes. He pumped his fists in the air. "All right! This is gonna be great. Thanks, Uncle Phil! I'm gonna tell Aunt Lizzie." Then he was gone in a flash, leaving Jay a little confused. 

"I guess I'll go find Alex," he said, his tone a combination of fatigue, desire to escape from the tension, and sage understanding that the grown-ups needed to discuss what had just happened.

Which Alexander intended to do, as soon as Jay shut the door behind him. "Jesus, Phil, why don't you tell me what you really think?" he snapped. He pushed away from the desk. 

"I'm sure Phil didn't mean--" Sarah began.

"Let him speak for himself," Alexander said, not to dismiss her but because she really had no idea what Phil meant or didn't mean. She couldn't, not having been around when Eliza first introduced Alexander to the family.

"Yeah, babe, you don't need to speak for me," Phil agreed, but his tone was much more dismissive toward her. He rounded on Alexander. "I thought we'd agreed that you and Lizzie aren't in charge of Philip," he said accusingly.

"We did. That doesn't mean I'm going to sit still while he insults my son. Or me," Alexander replied. As if to demonstrate, he got to his feet. 

"You're intimidated by an eight-year-old?" Phil scoffed. 

"No, Phil. I'm making it clear to him that his behavior's unacceptable. It's called parenting." He crossed his arms. "If you're going to take custody, then it's something you'd better be prepared to do. You can't just indulge him--especially when he behaves like that."

"Oh, come on, he was just--"

"Being a brat," Alexander concluded. "Philip's at an awkward stage, I know, but you're not doing him favors by allowing him to emulate that kind of shit."

"What kind? The kind that teaches men to be men?"

"Yeah, actually," Alexander said. "Exactly that kind. You know he already thinks hugging is effeminate?" He looked around Phil to Sarah and stepped toward her. "Sarah, I can't believe you don't know what I'm saying."

"Phil, he was being a little snotty," said Sarah reluctantly. "And honestly, telling Alexander to 'talk English?' That's not okay."

Phil scoffed. "Shoulda known you'd take his side," he muttered.

"I'm not, baby. I just...I don't know why you're being so ugly about this."

"Honey, you don't know him like I do. Alexander," and the name dripped with contempt, "likes to tell everyone else what to do and how to behave. But he doesn't follow his own advice."

"What?" Alexander blurted. He was beyond shocked now. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about bossing us all around. Like you're so perfect. When you're just as fucked up as everyone else."

Alexander resisted the urge to slap his forehead, but he was unable to prevent a sigh escaping as he sank onto the edge of the desk. His righteous anger deflated in the face of pity. "I'm not perfect, Phil. I never said I was. All I've ever tried to do is my best for this family. _Your_ family. You never liked me, that's fine. But don't you dare twist that boy into an instrument of your aggression. He's already clearly been damaged by your brother; don't make it worse by feeding his insecurities."

"Fuck you, what do you mean Brad damaged him?" Phil spat.

Alexander sighed again. "Shit. I didn't mean to say anything yet... I wanted to wait and see if the counselor picked up on anything." He continued to address Sarah more than Phil. "I have some reason to suspect that Brad may have--" he tripped on the words, tried again. "May have--hurt Philip. Repeatedly."

"You mean abuse?" she gasped.

"No fucking way," Phil said angrily. "No. Fucking. Way. You do _not_ get to talk shit about my brother like that." He drew himself up in a display of strength. Alexander reflexively stood from his perch on the desk as well. "How the fuck do you come up with something like that?" Phil demanded.

"I don't want to think it's true, either, Phil," said Alexander, forcing himself to stay calm. "I asked Philip a few questions, based on how jumpy he was. The night of his nightmare--"

"Which one?" Sarah asked quietly. "He's had more than one."

"He's come to you?" Alexander said to her.

She shook her head. "Judy--the counselor, I mean--she did mention that he'd had some. She wanted us to be--prepared for some anxiety."

"This is bullshit," Phil cut in. "He's not an abuse victim; don't assign him your sick fantasies. Just because you had a perv for a guardian--"

Alexander moved in an explosive push. He grabbed Phil's collar and drove the beefier man into the wall. _"¿Que me dijiste?"_ he choked, barely able to force the sound out. He'd had enough. He couldn't even believe the level of lie Phil was spewing. "You want to be careful what you're insinuating, _hermano_."

"Can dish it out but you can't take it, can you?" Phil growled, over Sarah's squeal of objection. "You want to take this outside, it's fine with me." His hands came up, knife-shaped, between Alexander's arms. Before Phil could force him to, Alexander broke contact and backed up a step.

"If you think I'm afraid of you--"

"No, I think I've got 10 years, 100 pounds, and army training on you, dude," Phil replied with confidence. "And if you don't like my insinuations, then take back your own."

"Stop it, both of you!" Sarah pleaded. "Phil, he said he wasn't sure. It's not crazy to be worried. And Alexander, Phil was just proving a point--"

"I said, stop speaking for me!" Phil shouted, turning on her. "Let me handle this."

"NO, I will not," Sarah shouted back. "Talk a walk, Phil. Go outside, clear your head. This isn't you, this is--I don't know, but you're scaring me. Alexander, please--just give him some space?"

"I don't think I should leave you alone with--"

"Fuck you, like I'm gonna hit my own wife?" Phil snapped. "Jesus. You just have judgments for everyone, don't you?" Sarah tried to soothe him with a hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away. "You know what, you're right: I need to get out of here for a while. Fuck this shit." He pressed past her, ripped the door open, and plunged through it. 

"So, he _doesn't_ have PTSD?" Alexander asked Sarah.

She burst into tears. Alexander guided her to one of the chairs near the fireplace. A few seconds later they heard the front door slam. 

As Alexander left her to fetch a box of tissues from the desk, she said, "I really thought he was all better."

"That's not how it works, _chica_ ," Alexander told her. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth. I knew he had a chip on his shoulder but--damn, I never expected--"

"No, I never expected it, either. I can't believe he'd treat you that way."

"Not the first time it's happened to me," Alexander observed. "Probably not the last. Still, it's particularly stinging when it's from someone you consider family." He crouched down to look her in the eye. "Sarah... is he violent? Have you ever come close to blows before?"

"No!" Sarah said immediately, and he wanted to believe her. "No, he gets--depressed, sometimes he's a little withdrawn. The worst I've ever seen is he'll yell at the TV or something and sometimes go out and get a drink."

"Honey. I'm not sure that's the right environment for Philip." He rubbed his chin in thought. "Look, I wanted it to work out. I really did. But now--I think Ms. Hochstein should know what the situation is for Phil."

"But having Philip will help!" Sarah claimed. "I'm sure it will. They really get along well. And Phil's--he's proud of himself when he's taking care of Philip. I wish I could explain it better. He's good with him."

"Good like encouraging him to disrespect me?" Alexander countered. "Good like teaching him to be a bully? To spout racism?"

"No," Sarah agreed. "No, I don't--I don't know what that was. An aberration. It's not like him, really. He was just upset."

"Sarah. I want to believe you. But either way, Philip's not a prop to make Phil feel better."

"No, of course not. I just meant--they get along. And this really isn't normal. I think it's just stress. It was just a disagreement. He got upset because he thought you were pulling rank on him or something."

"Yeah, I got that much," Alexander agreed, climbing back to his feet. 

"I'm sure he didn't mean it. Please, let's not blow things out of proportion. Just because he got angry and behaved badly doesn't mean he can't be a responsible guardian for Philip."

Alexander paced for a time, weighing the options, while Sarah sniffled. He knew he ought to stick to his position and inform the attorney, but if it really was just a personal dispute between himself and Phil spilling over, then as much as he hated to admit it, that wasn't reason enough to block Phil taking custody. It made him a shitty brother-in-law, but not necessarily a dangerous parent. "Okay. I'm prepared to believe this is an...isolated incident," he conceded. "But if anything like it happens again, you see how I can't condone him being placed with you?"

More tears spilled into Sarah's lap. She sniffed and reached for a fresh tissue. "I do. But, for now?"

Alexander took her hand in both of his, sighing. "For now, I won't call her. Only, Sarah, please, if you realize that he's becoming volatile…."

"I'll get him help," she promised. "Alexander, I'm sorry he called you those things."

"Yeah. Well, like you said, he's had a grudge against me for years. I guess it just--boiled over."

"Still. He shouldn't have done it. And he shouldn't have encouraged Philip." She wrung his hand reassuringly. "I'm sure he'll see that when he calms down."

"Hm." He was about to say more but there was a knock and Eliza came in, coat in hand. 

"We're about to go to the movies...are you coming?" she asked.

"You should go," said Alexander to Sarah. 

"You're not coming?" both women said to him at the same time.

He shook his head. "No, I've got some more work to do before everyone leaves the office today." He held Eliza's gaze and hoped she didn't interpret his decision as a snub. "But you should go, enjoy it."

Eliza looked around. "What about Phil? Wasn't he in here before?"

"Phil went out," Alexander said to spare Sarah, when she fumbled for an explanation. "He wasn't all that interested, anyway. Go. Have fun." He smiled, aware that it was a weak effort. 

"I'll get my coat," Sarah said. She left.

Eliza followed him back to the computer. "The boys were really looking forward to you going with them," she said, putting her arms around his shoulders. "Are you sure you can't take a break?"

"Trust me, I'm not in the mood," he answered, but squeezed her tight. "Kiss me."

She smiled seductively and obliged as he deepened the embrace. "What's wrong?" she asked, breaking apart.

"Nothing."

"Liar. That wasn't a happy kiss, it was a 'make me happy' kiss. Come on, what is it?"

"I just wish I didn't have so much work to do. I'm looking forward to getting home next week."

If she still didn't believe him, she didn't show it. "Me, too. Everyone's been under a strain."

"Yeah. Go on, you'll be late for the picture." He hugged her again before letting go. When she'd gone, he sat at the desk for a long time with his head in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**  
>  _par example_ = for example  
>  _Je sais, je sais_ = I know, I know  
>  _vraiment?_ = Really  
>  _Que raisonnable_ = How sensible  
>  _T'es foutu_ = You're screwed  
>  _Tonterías_ = Bullshit (Sp.)  
>  _no es mi problema_ = not my problem (Sp.)  
>  _Rien_ = Nothing  
>  _No guay, chico_ = Not cool, kid  
>  _"¿Que me dijiste?"_ = What did you just say to me?  
>  _hermano_ = brother


	6. Thanksgiving

The kids returned hyped from the movie, already asking to go see it a second time that weekend. "It's snowing, Dad!" Alejandro announced as they trooped in to greet him. 

"Can we go play in the snow?" Jaime asked.

"What did your mother say?" Alexander wanted to know.

Their faces told him all he needed, but they answered, "She said it's too late to go outside." 

"Mm-hm," he confirmed. 

Philip hung back by the door, subdued compared to the others' excitement. "It's just snow," he muttered.

"It's the _first_ snow," Jay explained solemnly. 

" _Vale_ , boys, go wash up; it's almost dinnertime," Alexander said. "Maybe tomorrow there'll be enough snow for a snowman. Or a snowball fight."

"Yeah!" Jay exulted. "Wanna hear about the movie?" he asked his father.

"Tell us over dinner," said Alexander, who had the feeling Philip wanted to talk to him.

Sure enough, when the others went out, Philip hovered by the open door of the study. "Uncle Alex?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, buddy?" Alexander invited, while making no move toward the boy.

"I'm--sorry I was mean, before."

"I appreciate that, Philip. Thank you."

"Are you...still mad at me?"

"No, I'm not mad. Are you and Jay getting along okay now?"

"I guess so." He took one tentative step forward. "It's just--I get confused when you say things I don't understand."

"It's okay to ask, Philip. The way I grew up, we spoke French, Spanish, even a little Dutch and Haitian now and then, all smacked together. Sometimes I don't even realize I'm not speaking all in English. Ask Alejandro or Jaime--they'll tell you sometimes they have to ask me to change back, too. It's okay to ask. But it's not okay to assume that someone's just trying to make you feel uncomfortable or inadequate when you don't understand. And it's not okay to treat people unkindly just because you feel insecure. Okay?"

Philip hung his head and nodded. "I mean, yes, sir," he added.

"Philip, did you call your dad 'Sir'?" Alexander asked, casually, so as not to raise Philip's hackles.

The boy nodded again. "Yes, sir," he repeated.

"And he wanted you to answer him out loud, too, is that right?"

"Yes. Yessir."

"Okay. Did you like the film?"

If the sudden topic shift threw Philip off-balance, he recovered quickly. "Yeah, it was fantastic! There wasn't even a lot of singing. But Buzz was awesome. And there was this one part where he got all confused and he kept saying he was Mrs. Nesbit." Philip laughed at the memory, genuinely amused. "And then he and Woody had to escape this mean kid's room and--"

"Great," Alexander said with a kindly smile. "You boys can tell us all about it at dinner. I'm gonna shut things down here and wash up. Do you want to go clean up too or stay here?"

Philip hesitated. "You're always working," he observed. "My dad worked a lot, too."

"Mm-hm," Alexander agreed, hastily saving his documents so that he could focus on Philip. 

"He didn't really have a lot of--time for me," Philip continued. "Alex and Jay said you spend loads of time with them even though you work a lot."

"Well, I try to," Alexander said. "You'll all be grown up before we know it and then none of you will have time for us parents." He felt his heart rate increase and tried not to seem too excited or relieved that Philip seemed to be breaking through his fears. He kept things casual to avoid spooking him again.

"But some people--parents, I mean--they really don't like kids much, do they," Philip said sadly. 

"Some," Alexander agreed. "Do you think your parents were like that?"

"Oh--no!" Philip insisted. "No, I wasn't talking about them."

"Okay," said Alexander, again carefully neutral. He was not sure where Philip was trying to go, but he'd give him leeway if that's what he needed.

"Like...some of the boys at school--at my _old_ school--their parents act like they wish they didn't even have kids."

Alexander grunted and shut off the computer. He stacked up his notes to tidy up the desk.

"But Aunt Lizzie's nice. And she likes you. And...and you're...nice to Alex, Jay, and Johnny."

"But…?" Alexander prompted, sensing that they were arriving at Philip's point.

"Nothing," he said instead, frustratingly. "It's just--you're not how Dad--I mean, you're not--um, I dunno. I guess I'll wash up." He retreated to the door. "Uncle Alex, what do you do?"

"I'm an attorney."

"My dad was a stockbroker," Philip said. 

"I know," Alexander said, nodding. He walked toward the door; Philip stepped across the threshold into the hallway, but did not back away.

"And Grandpa worked in insurance. But Uncle Phil's in the Reserves," he said as Alexander approached.

"Yes, I know that, too."

"And he's a policeman," he added. "Like Gramps was a long time ago."

"That's...correct." Again, Alexander felt he was humoring Philip and wasn't sure where this was leading. 

But Philip merely looked up at him for a few seconds, performing some internal calculation that Alexander could only guess at. "Someone like that's supposed to protect people, and not be mean, right?"

"Yeah," Alexander said, voice thick. "Which makes it pretty disappointing when they are, doesn't it? But, you know, with your Uncle, it's not all his fault. He went to war, and that's a tough thing to get over. Sometimes it makes people say and do things they don't really mean. Just like you didn't really mean what you said to me, right?"

"Yeah," Philip agreed. "I don't know why I--because Uncle Phil was--"

"Your uncle has some things he needs to work through, Philip, just like you do. You've both been through some trauma. We all just have to be patient. But it's important not to be led on and lash out. Cruelty is easy; kindness is harder. You know… you can talk to us--any of us--about anything you want. It doesn't matter where you'll be living. We're all here for you."

Philip stood still in the corridor, watching Alexander again. Alexander had the distinct feeling he was being tested. He met Philip's eye, taking care not to let any expression but patience and perhaps a little bemusement cross his face. Finally, Philip broke the staring contest.

"Okay," he said, "I'll go wash up now." With that, he headed up the stairs, leaving Alexander thoroughly bewildered.

~

Thanksgiving Day dawned upon another three inches of snow. Catherine enlisted everyone to help with various preparations in the morning: Phil and Peggy to get the good china and silver from the dining room breakfront and Philip and Jay to set the table; Angelica, Eliza and Alexander to peel and boil the potatoes and sweet potatoes; her husband snapping beans; Sarah and Alejandro to make the stuffing; Kitty mixing the cornbread; and Juan to help her stuff the turkey and tie twine around the bird's legs and neck to hold it all together.

Once the initial rush of cooking had been handled, she sent everyone away except Eliza, Angelica, Peggy, Sarah, and Kitty, who were to work with her on the desserts. There were three pies and a variety of bean jam buns to be made. Each one was among Catherine's prized secret recipes, handed down through the generations from both sides of the family. 

"I'm not saying men can't cook," she said as she shooed all of the aforementioned gender out of her kitchen, "I'm just saying this is for the women in this family. Go watch the parade or something but stay out of our way for the next 3 hours. Kitchen's off-limits."

Alexander had forgotten to pack winter coats, boots, scarves, hats and mittens for the boys, but they wanted their promised snowball fight. Phil, who since he had returned the day before, had behaved as if nothing had happened, said helpfully, "I bet Mom still has some stuff in the attic," and led an expedition upstairs to find suitable outerwear. An hour later, they trooped down again in ski jackets and snow boots.

"Mine are pink!" Juan said proudly, showing his father and grandfather. 

"They're Kitty's--it's the only thing we found that remotely fit," Alejandro explained.

"I told him he didn't have to wear them," said Phil, "but--"

"I like 'em, Papi!" Juan announced. "I'm Mrs. Nesbit!" He collapsed into giggles. 

"Okay, Mrs. Nesbit," said Alexander, "how about that snowball fight?" Borrowing an old overcoat and set of galoshes from Philip, he followed them outside. 

He took special delight in pasting Phil with a particularly well-timed snowball. Honestly, he felt he deserved a medal for limiting it to the one. But Thanksgiving in the Schuyler house meant truce, no matter what internal rivalries might be simmering between anyone, so he restrained himself.

They played until Eliza rapped on the French doors to wave them all in. "We made grilled cheese for lunch," she told them. They left their mittens, coats, and boots in a heap to troop upstairs for the sandwiches, and tomato soup as well.

After lunch, all three Philips went to watch the football game. "Can we watch, too?" Alex asked. 

"Sure, if you want to," Alexander said. Not having grown up with the quintessential American sport, he felt at best an ambivalence toward it. Knowing it was a holiday, and that mostly likely no one at the firm was even checking their email, he chose to go to the library and read instead. It felt like ages since he'd had a couple of hours to curl up with a book that wasn't for the boys or work-related. He selected a novel from the shelves, stretched out on one of the couches, spread a crocheted afghan over his legs, and cracked open the book.

He must have fallen asleep, because it was gloomy in the library when a light hand on his arm touched him awake. 

"Alexander? We're about ready." It was Angelica.

"Ange? God. What time is it?" An angular shaft of brightness cut into the shadows from the open hallway door, but the sky outside the windows was darkening quickly.

"Nearly six. Eliza came in earlier but said you were so fast asleep she didn't want to wake you."

He sat up drowsily to stretch. His neck had cricked from the angle at which he'd rested his head on the sofa arm; he didn't remember turning onto his side. Angelica collected the afghan and refolded it; his legs felt cold where the blanket had been.

"Wow," he said simply. 

Angelica laughed. "Well, you must have needed it. Small wonder, with everything you've been juggling. Lizzie always did say she wasn't sure how you manage it all." But instead of offering him a hand to help him climb out of the couch, she sat down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "I miss you two so much. Do you think you'll ever visit London?"

He laced his fingers through hers. "Three kids, Angel. Work, Betsey's job--the White House--"

"The White House?" Angelica sat up, excited. "Oh, Alexander, really?"

"Well, they've been calling," he admitted with a shrug. "Nothing's even on the table yet."

"But--President Washington! You think he'll ask you to take a post?"

"No. I think he'll ask me to be a speechwriter. But--it's going to be a bit awkward, working with him again."

"Alexander," Angelica reassured him, "he wouldn't contact you if he had any hard feelings."

"He's an amazing diplomat--always has been, when he needed to be," Alexander said thoughtfully. "It's not at all beyond him to take on assistants that he dislikes personally, when they have skills he needs professionally. He's a bit of a political anomaly that way."

"But he doesn't dislike you," Angelica declared. "You just had a--a clash, that's all."

"That's putting it mildly," said Alexander. Angelica took his arm with her free hand and leaned toward him. "I admit I wasn't my best right around then. Jack--" he cleared his throat-- "it was right around when he got diagnosed and--well, let's face it, I was a mess. I'd taken a leave from school, I was organizing marches and protests for AIDS awareness--then the campaign pressures."

"But that was almost fifteen years ago, Alex," she reminded him. "I don't know him like you, certainly, but John and I have met him a few times. He's not the type to hold a grudge."

"No, you're right. I just…. I don't know. I don't want to throw away a shot, but I don't want to put myself back in a position where my recommendations are ignored."

Angelica said nothing for a while, only replaced her head against his arm. He became all too aware of her breathing, the scent of her hair, the coolness of her fingers as they intertwined his. He cleared his throat. "Hey, we should go eat, huh?" he suggested as he pushed forward to the edge of the sofa cushion. "Or they'll wonder what happened to us."

Reluctantly, she pulled away. "Maybe it's a good thing I'm going back to London soon," she whispered.

Alexander stood, still holding her hand. He tugged to help leverage her to her feet. When she added her own momentum, she came up more quickly than she'd planned and overbalanced. She fell forward into his arms; he caught her but they were suddenly nose to nose. He could feel her heart beat faster; it didn't quite match his own rhythm. It was the sort of moment in a romantic film where the hero and heroine fall into a kiss. He carefully stepped backward. "Ange--"

"I know."

"Betsey--"

"I know. I agree."

He slid his hands down to take both of hers. "Let's--go eat," he suggested. 

Angelica pressed her lips flat against one another and smiled. "Okay," she said, letting go one hand and shaking his other a little as she led him out of the library, sisterly once more.

The long dining room table was groaning with food, and that did not count the pies and buns sitting on the sideboard. Catherine had lit two ornate candelabras to either side of the center. Several dishes sat on trivets between them. The large, golden platter of turkey stood at Philip's end of the table.

Angelica and Alexander were the last to arrive. "Sorry to keep everyone waiting," Alexander said as they took the two places not yet occupied. Alexander sat in the middle of one long side, between Peggy and Alex, Jr. Angelica's place was between her brother and the youngest Philip. 

"Not at all," Catherine assured him. "But we didn't want you to sleep right through dinner."

"No, not when this excellent meal will surely put us all in carb comas about an hour from now!" Alexander laughed.

They joined hands around the table. Philip gave a brief blessing, and if more than one Schuyler had to wipe tears away at the mention of their lost ones, no one thought anyone the worse for it. Then the prayer ended and Philip rose to carve, with Phil's help, and the meal began.

"I bet you're looking forward to getting back to school, Alex," Philip said drily. "Jay?"

They both wrinkled their noses.

"No?" Philip teased. "But don't you know that the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas are the best weeks of school?"

"No, it's not," Jay said, pausing in his pursuit of mashed potatoes. "We have to be in a pageant."

"Ah, but your teachers are all concerned with the pageant, and not on giving you tests!" Philip claimed. He winked at Eliza.

"Daddy," she said disapprovingly. 

"I'm seven, Gramps," Jay said. "We don't really have any tests."

"That's certainly true," Alexander griped. 

"Well, I have tests all the time," Phil grumbled. "And there's no pageant."

"Trade ya," Alex offered. "I don't mind tests."

"You're so weird," Jay reminded his brother across the table.

"Johnny, does your daycare have a pageant?" Peggy asked the three-year-old.

He shook his head, but Eliza said, "It's a very small one, just a couple of songs on the day before Christmas."

"Don't wanna," said Juan.

"Oh, it's not that bad. I thought you liked singing," Eliza said to her youngest, crammed into a booster chair between her and his grandmother. He merely shrugged.

"I suppose everyone will begin heading home tomorrow," Catherine said mournfully. "You'll all have to promise to take leftovers, or your father and I will be swimming in all this food 'til the end of the year."

There was a tense moment when all eyes slid over Peggy. Most of them tactfully looked away immediately. Her plate had one slice of turkey, a few beans, and a tiny bit of cranberry relish. She had put about three forkfuls of salad in her bowl. No potatoes, no stuffing. Alexander dropped his left hand under the table to squeeze her right hand.

"Mama, you know I can't on an international flight," Angelica said into the silence. "And I bet that Phil and Sarah don't want to risk putting anything in their luggage. Peggy, I'm sure you don't, either."

"No," Peggy agreed with obvious relief. 

"Yeah, Mom," said Phil. "I guess we'll just have to do our best between now and whenever we leave."

Catherine looked about to object, but Eliza jumped in. "We'll pack things up in smaller containers. I'm sure Alexander and I will take a meal's worth, and you can freeze the rest."

Really, they had a similar conversation every year, Alexander thought. He caught his father-in-law's eye and the two shared a conspiratorial glance. The only difference was that this year, Peggy's weight was a rather obvious topic everyone was avoiding. One thing about the Schuylers that he appreciated: despite any drama that might be occurring within the family, none of it wormed its way to the surface at big family dinners, and especially at Thanksgiving dinner. Privately, Alexander thought it was just because Catherine was far too skilled a cook for anyone to risk missing out by storming away from the table in a fit. In his own memories from childhood, he had nothing to compare to Schuyler meals--even when they'd had plenty to eat, which wasn't always, he had to admit that his mother's culinary arts were not all that impressive. He and Jimmy had more or less learned how to eat without lingering on the experience. The less one dwelt on how dishes tasted, or what was actually in them, the better.

But here, there was no shortage of fare, and all of it delicious. The ritual topic of what to do with the leftovers concluded, and Philip moved on to ask Phil and Sarah whether they would make it back for Christmas.

"One of us will, at least," Phil assured him, nodding to his wife directly across the table. "There's always a possibility my service weekend will come up."

"I'd like to see if I can find a school for Philip before the next semester starts," Sarah interjected. "I thought, maybe, if everything works out, we could take him back to Chicago with us after the holiday."

Alexander looked across the table at little Philip to see how he was taking this plan. Strictly speaking, talking about leaving might not have been the safest topic for a drama-free dinner, but on the other hand, they had to start talking about departure plans sometime. That did not mean it was appropriate to bring up more long-term arrangements, however. Alexander, Eliza, and Angelica had already discussed among themselves the dangers of presenting Philip with anything that remotely smacked of a promise.

"Really?" Philip had said, sitting up a little more in his chair. "I'd get to go home with you?"

"Well--"

"--That hasn't been decided yet," Alexander heard himself saying, "But, if things go the way we expect, yes, it's possible, Philip."

"If things go the way we expect," Sarah echoed.

Philip slammed his fork down on his plate. Then he banged his elbows down on the table and leaned his face against balled fists. No one corrected his manners. "I hate this," he said in a tone that was half dejection, half pent-up rage. "I wish you would just _tell_ me what's going to happen."

The statement hung over them all. Across the table from him, to either side of Philip and Jay, Eliza and Angelica both pleaded with Alexander to say something--anything--to sympathize with Philip's situation. He darted a glance at Philip, then at Phil, and cleared his throat. Softly, he said, "We'd tell you if we knew, Philip. The fact is, these are big decisions, even though they might seem simple to you. And I know it's hard, especially when you're so young, to have to shoulder this much uncertainty." He paused, saw that Philip was not responding at all, and glanced nervously around at his own children. Eliza silently encouraged him to go on, with a tiny smile and an almost imperceptible nod. 

His palms suddenly felt sweaty; his heart pounded in his chest, and he felt his cheeks growing hot, but he cleared his throat again and continued. "I was a little older than you were when my--my mother died. My brother and I stayed with relatives but we had to wait a long, long time before we knew for sure where and...how...we were going to live."

As he had after the movie the day before, Philip listened attentively to Alexander's every word. His plate sat virtually forgotten as he leaned forward, cheeks still resting on his fists, but now more intrigued and less angry. "Where was your dad?" he asked quietly.

"He was--already gone," Alexander said, and left it at that. "And I don't want to alarm you, but it took nearly a year before we had a permanent solution." He rushed forward, proud of himself for covering up his own lingering bitterness at how unsatisfactory the "solution" was, and eager to move past it for Philip's sake. "Now, no one wants that for you, and I know your grandparents and your uncles and aunts are going to do everything possible to resolve this to everyone's satisfaction. But sometimes these things take some time to figure out. Even grown-ups don't always have the right answer right away."

He flushed feverishly as he finished speaking, and retreated to a sip of wine. He was acutely aware of his sons' eyes on him, of the way the table had fallen silent as he spoke. He couldn't meet anyone's gaze, least of all Eliza's, so he studied his wine glass as he set it down. He cleared his throat again and said more brightly, "In the meantime, you should tell Alex, Jay, and Johnny what you liked about taking the train. Since we'll be going back to New York that way."

For a moment, it seemed Philip might object to the abrupt change of topic. He stared at Alexander in surprise, then dropped his gaze to his plate. He picked up his fork and idly pushed around some of his beans. "I, uh… I liked the sliding doors on the cars," he said. "And the view. Aunt Lizzie let me sit in the window seat."

After that, they were able to get through the rest of the meal without incident. It was pleasant to sit around the table, discuss the little goings-on of their lives, occasionally share a memory of Brad and Beth, and enjoy each other's company for a while. They made plans for transportation the next day--Peggy had an early flight--and for Saturday, when Eliza would take Angelica to the airport before driving Philip back to New Hampshire.

Catherine's family had long held to a tradition that no one obtained a tree until the beginning of December, but they did begin some preparations immediately following Thanksgiving dinner. So it was back up to the attic to bring down boxes and plastic tubs of tinsel, ornaments, and other decorations, including some old paper chains the grown Schuylers had made when they were all small children. Peggy led the way for the young boys, while Phil and Sarah offered to clear the table. Philip, Sr. had begun to droop, so Angelica offered to help him upstairs to bed. They were halfway up when the phone rang.

"Alexander, would you?" Catherine called from the kitchen, where she and Eliza were overseeing the leftovers.

Alexander hurried to the nearest phone, in the study, and picked up.

"Mr. Hamilton, it's Annie Hochstein."

"Oh. Yes, of course."

"I'm sorry to bother you on Thanksgiving. Are you all still at dinner?"

"No--we'd just finished. Is something wrong?"

He could practically hear her shake her head. "I wonder if you all might meet me tomorrow at my office--just briefly. Or I could come to Senator Schuyler's house?"

"Erm, well, I'm sure we can arrange something, but--can I ask why?"

"I finally heard back from Elaine Carver, Beth Schuyler's own attorney, and--there are some additional codicils to be considered."

"Oh." He sighed heavily. "You should know that in the days since we met with you, the family have more or less come to an arrangement that we find acceptable. Are these new developments going to jeopardize that?"

"They might," she admitted. "Do you have a minute to talk about it?"

"Yes, of course," he said. "Just a moment." He set the receiver down and shut the study door.

~

"So, after due consideration of all the factors," Ms. Hochstein said to the adults the next day, "all of the statements in support of taking custody, the findings of the grief counselor and Philip's own indications to her by her report, and the wishes of the late Mrs. Schuyler, I'm recommending the following. First that Philip continue at his boarding school, per his mother's wishes. Second, that he spend all or part of his summers with Linda and Grant Hunter, the maternal grandparents, as they have been hosting him for the past several years in a similar arrangement. Third, that Philip and Catherine Schuyler will be his legal guardians of record. This includes serving as emergency contacts with his school, and the power of attorney to make health-related decisions should the need arise. If they can't travel to get him to and from the grounds, then they will make suitable arrangements with the school to appoint a surrogate. They will also be his custodians during breaks and holidays, other than his summer vacation with his other grandparents.

"I'm sure you're aware that Lakeside conducts standardized testing at the end of their students' first two years. They only allow students who score above the 75th percentile to return the following year. Philip will take his second set of tests at the end of this year, so, I propose that we revisit the custodial decisions over the summer, when it will be determined whether or not he can continue at his current institution."

She finished speaking, folded her hands in her lap, and waited. No one spoke. Uncomfortably, she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry that Mr. and Mrs. Hunter weren't still here," she said. "I'll have to call them this afternoon." 

There was a sniffle from one of the sofas in the library. Sarah reached for a tissue to blow her nose.

"I know this is disappointing for some of you," Ms. Hochstein continued. "Mr. Hamilton told me that you'd all talked and--I know this isn't what you had in mind. But it's what his parents apparently intended. I can only encourage you all to continue to support Philip through this period. There's nothing saying you can't have him visit, for a weekend or a week, or even two, if that's what you all decide. But, based on all the factors, that's what I'm recommending." She stood up. "I've taken up enough of your time," she said to Philip. "I'll go. Please stay in touch and we'll keep an eye on how things develop with him and with you all." 

"I'll see you out," Angelica said automatically, getting to her feet.

"Thank you," Ms. Hochstein said. "Again, I'm sorry. I hope this doesn't ruin what's left of your holiday."

Angelica closed the door gently behind them. There was a deflation, as if all the air had gone out of the room, while everyone expelled the breaths they had been holding. Phil put his arm around Sarah, but glared at Alexander.

"Did you have something to do with this?" he accused.

"What? No," said Alexander. "You heard her say that Beth left additional documents with another attorney. I think that's what determined most of her decision."

Eliza put a hand on his arm. He nodded to her in acknowledgement and sighed more sympathetically. "She also said it's just a recommendation--and that we'll revisit this in six or seven months. I can understand wanting to give him consistency."

"We were going to give him a home!" Sarah cried. She burst into tears and hid her face against Phil's shoulder. 

Alexander swallowed his response to that, but Philip came to his rescue. "He has us all," he told his daughter-in-law in his reassuring rumble. "I'm going to contact the school and make sure that you and Phil are listed as alternate contacts."

"Who's going to tell Philip?" Catherine asked, looking at her husband.

"We will," he told her. 

"I think it's important," said Eliza, "that we all try to behave as positively about this as possible. I know it's a blow," she said gently, crossing to Sarah to pat her shoulder, "but if we seem shocked or angry about it, Philip might feel justified in defying the decision. It could make everything even harder for him when he goes back to school."

"You want us to make him think we're happy he's not coming home with us?" Phil asked bitterly.

"No, that's not what I--" she broke off as Angelica came back into the room. "That's not what I meant, Phil," she tried again. "Of course, you should tell him how disappointed you are, but at the same time, we should all emphasize how much we all love him and--and how much we all love Mom and Daddy. That he'll be more than all right with things once we all settle into the routine."

They reluctantly agreed not to encourage Philip to see the decision as a punishment. As they all got up, announcing their planned activities, Eliza offered to bring Philip in. "Alexander, I'll start packing for him, if you'll help the boys?"

" _Guay_ ," he agreed. Meanwhile, Phil helped Sarah get to her feet and they made for their room. Alexander presumed it was to avoid showing Philip their distress.

He let his sons mess about a little while he sorted their clothes back into their suitcases and duffels. He felt sympathy for Sarah, but wondered if in the end, perhaps it wasn't a better outcome than Philip going to stay with the young couple full-time. Perhaps some instinct had led Ms. Hochstein to recommend something as close to status quo as they could achieve--or perhaps something the counsellor had picked up had contributed to the decision. 

He was more than a little relieved, either way, that the decision had not been his to make--and that it had fallen out in such a way that he and Eliza would not be responsible for the young orphan. Uncharitable that might be, but if nothing else, it simplified matters considerably.

Maybe Gilbert or Peggy would chide him for that. Maybe Eliza would, too. He gave slightly more credence to Gilbert's opinion, since he himself had been emancipated at the age of 17 when his parents had been killed in a bombing in Algeria. But Peggy and Eliza had no ground on which to preach, in Alexander's opinion. They meant well, but they couldn't possibly know the level of complication that Philip would introduce to the Hamilton household.

Lucky for them all, he thought, they'd never need to find out.

~

Dinnertime arrived. Phil came down, saying Sarah wasn't feeling well and just wanted a little soup if there were any leftover. 

"There's none from lunch, but you can heat up another can," Catherine told him. As he busied himself in the kitchen, the rest gathered up reheated dishes and brought them to the table. 

"Where's Philip?" Angelica asked, looking around at them all. "Is he coming down?"

"He locked the door. Again," Jay volunteered. 

"When did that happen?" asked his mother.

He shrugged. 

"I'll go--"

"No," said Catherine, thin-lipped. "I'll go. You all start, while it's hot."

She was gone long enough for the plates to get piled with a hodge-podge of Thanksgiving and other leftovers, and for Alexander to accept Philip's offer of a drink with dinner. He had not taken the first sip, though, before she returned alone. "He's asking to speak to you, Alexander," she told him. 

Alexander considered draining the freshly poured glass of wine. Instead, he set it down untouched and pushed back from his chair. To his son next to him, he said, "Don't eat all my green beans," as if there were any danger of it, and with a wink at Eliza, told them he'd be back shortly. 

He knocked on Philip's door and announced himself. The door unlocked and opened slowly; Philip danced away toward the closet door. Carefully leaving the door wide open, Alexander stepped over the threshold.

"Dinnertime," he said by way of overture, and was met only with a shrug. "Okay, you asked to see me. I think you're being melodramatic, kiddo, but I'm here. What did you want to talk to me about?"

Philip looked up, but seemed to lose his nerve. He ducked his head to avert his gaze. "I…. Can you talk to her? To the lawyer?"

"About what?" Alexander asked, trying to stay neutral. He began to cross his arms and then thought better of the visual, letting them drop back to his sides.

"I...I don't wanna live here," Philip said. "Or with Gramma and Grandpa in Newport. I don't wanna go back to Lakeside."

"You want to live with your Uncle Phil and Aunt Sarah, like we all talked about?" Alexander guessed. But to his surprise, Philip shook his head and blinked away tears. "Well, then--"

"I wanna come back to New York with Aunt Lizzie," the boy wailed. "I wanna live with her and Alex and Jay."

"Well, I don't blame you, but it's not just the three of them, right? I mean, you know if that's what you want, it comes with Johnny, too. And me?" Alexander verified. 

Philip cried harder. He tried to say something but it was completely unintelligible through his tears.

Alexander sank onto the bed and held out his arms. " _Oyez, chico, ven aquí_ ," he invited. Philip plunged forward and grabbed onto him, sobbing. It was as if something had finally cracked open inside him, and now had to explode on its way out. A dam breaking; a volcano erupting--it was all the more virulent for having been masked by anger up until that moment. He let Philip cry for a minute or two, staying stalwart through the gulping, ugly howls that tore out of the boy, until the force of his grief subsided. When he had dulled down to sniffles, Alexander said, "Did you tell the counselor that's what you wanted? Did you tell Ms. Hochstein when she talked to you?"

Here Philip renewed his bawling. "No!" he blubbered. "I didn't want to then. I told Miss Judy--I said--I said I wanted Gramma and Grandpa, but I _don't!_ " He straightened and pushed against Alexander's shoulders, emphasizing each statement with a shove. "I don't wanna go back to school and I don't wanna live in stupid Rhode Island and I don't wanna be here!"

"Okay--hey," Alexander did his best to protect himself from Philip's pummeling. "Philip, whoa. Shh." He shifted over so he could reach the box of tissues by the nightstand. "I get it, _chaval_. I do. I get that you're angry. I know. Here," he said, folding a tissue to hold up to Philip's nose. Philip took it and blew a loud, long, snotty emission that threatened the tissue's integrity. He swiped at his nose with another fold, crumpled it up, and tossed it toward the trash can. It missed; Alexander ignored it and handed him another.

"I know it's tough, kiddo," he continued once Philip had regained a little self-control. "It sucks and it's awful and it hurts and it's never, ever going to be the same. I _know_. But it _will_ be okay, and this arrangement--it'll be okay."

Philip renewed his sobbing protests. He let loose a stream of "No's" worthy of Johnny's worst tantrums. Alexander bore it silently until Philip paused for a breather. 

" _Oralé, muchacho. Yo no se._ I don't know. What are we gonna do, huh? Maybe we all should have talked a little more about things before, as we were going along. I think, maybe no one wanted to pry into what you talked about with, uh, Miss Judy. But--well, that's our fault." He sighed. "Look. I'm sorry, Philip, I really am. But it's a little too late to make any sort of change right now. No! Listen," he continued quickly when Philip's face reddened, and he threatened to blow up again. "Listen," Alexander repeated more kindly. "I'm not saying never. Can we make a deal?"

Philip regarded him skeptically. "What deal?" he asked after a long pause. His face was set, as if anticipating some sort of trick.

"Well.... You and your Aunt go back to Lakeside tomorrow--no, no, listen!--and you get through the next three weeks there. Three weeks--until Christmas vacation. Just three weeks. And in the meantime, your Aunt and I will talk to the counselor and Ms. Hochstein and--and then we'll see."

Philip considered this offer. 

"Out of curiosity," Alexander asked despite himself, "what changed your mind?"

Philip shrugged. "You're an orphan," he muttered.

"You think just because I'm an orphan I'm going to give you your way?" Alexander guessed. But Philip shook his head, still focused on his feet. "Well, then--"

"No, it was a lot of things. Um. I--I told Miss Judy that I'd want to go with Aunt Lizzie...except that I didn't want you for a dad," he admitted. "But--then, Jay and Alex think you're some kind of superhero, and superheroes never--and, you didn't--I mean, when I called you names, you didn't get--and then last night, you said, you said your parents were dead, too…." (It was not quite the truth, but in Philip's defense, it was exactly what Alexander had led him to believe.) "....And everyone listens to you. Even Gramma. And you talk to me different than Uncle Phil. Or anyone. You haven't lied. About Mom and Dad. You're honest about things, um, sucking. You talk like I'm smart."

"You are smart," Alexander told him. "Smart enough to not be babied. Smart enough not to be fooled by a lot of--bull crap."

Philip nodded. "So...can't we just all go to New York?" he whined.

"I just said, I won't hand you a line of bull crap," Alexander snorted. "And I'm not gonna lie, Philip. You're right: I haven't lied to you yet, and I'm not going to start. You want to stay with your Aunt Lizzie, well--that's a package deal. I'm not going anywhere--at least, she hasn't seemed to want to kick me out yet." He smiled weakly, but abandoned his attempt at humor in the face of the child's gravity. "And telling the counselor that you specifically _didn't_ want me to be there? That makes it a little difficult, doesn't it?"

Philip nodded slowly.

Alexander sighed again. "Well, it's not hopeless. I'm just asking for a little time to see what we can work out. Okay?"

His answer was a shrug. 

"Philip?" he asked after a moment. "Will you tell me the truth about something? I promise I won't get angry. When you told Miss Judy you didn't want me for a dad…. Is that because your dad said bad things about me?"

Philip's eyes spilled fresh tears. It was all the confirmation Alexander needed, but he couldn't stop himself from pressing. 

"Because he called me names, because I'm an immigrant? Spanish? Creole?" he guessed. Philip continued to bite his lips and cry silently in shame. "Anything else?"

Philip's chin quavered and he looked away. "Pervert, maybe?" Alexander prompted. 

Here, Philip dissolved in another flood of tears. "My dad loved me," he choked out.

"Oh, honey. Of course he did," Alexander agreed. "But you told Jay that I'm perverted. Didn't you? Was that something you heard your dad say?"

Philip squeezed his eyes shut, but nodded again. "Please don't tell Aunt Lizzie!" he cried. "He said--he said I shouldn't be alone with you. Shouldn't let you touch me. He said you'd try to--"

Alexander growled a stream of Spanish, mixed with French, that he was grateful Philip couldn't understand. If Brad hadn't already been dead, he'd have welcomed the chance to put the man in his grave. "Are you kidding me?" he said finally, after letting loose his more colorful thoughts. "Philip--that's never, ever going to happen. You understand? That's-- _Madre de Díos_ , that's just a sick--your father-- _how_ could he think that? How could he _tell_ you that? No, it's okay--I promise. I'm not angry at you, Philip. I'm not."

"You're angry at my dad," he concluded, tears still spilling out of his eyes, splashing on the rug.

"Yeah, I am. Philip that's--that's the sort of accusation that can ruin people's lives. It's not true."

"I--I know," Philip said. "I mean, I know that now."

"I know you've been scared of me," Alexander confirmed. "Now I know why. _¡Fóllame!_ " He rose from the bed to pace the room in agitation. Eventually, he realized that Philip was still watching him warily. "Philip--" He let go of his indignation at the expression of worry on the boy's face. Sighing, he sat down again and beckoned Philip toward him. "Never mind. It's okay. It's not your fault, okay?" He scrubbed his face with one hand. "Okay, but I need to know: Did you tell Miss Judy any of that? That you didn't want to live with us because you were worried I was some kind of predator?"

"A what?" Philip asked, nose wrinkling.

"Did you tell Miss Judy that your dad had warned you I might try to--touch you?" Alexander fought to keep the snarl out of his voice.

"Oh. Um…" Philip sniffed. "Maybe?"

"Great," sniped Alexander. "Okay. Okay, well...Social Services hasn't come looking for me, so let's just assume that we can fix this."

Philip's lip trembled. "I'm sorry, Uncle Alex! I didn't--don't--"

"Shh, _chaval_ , it's okay. It's really not your fault." He sighed again. 

"But you think it's my dad's," Philip said, sounding a little defensive.

"I think your dad--No, I don't know what your dad was thinking," Alexander admitted. "I can't justify his behavior. I'm sure he thought he was protecting you."

"But you're mad at him," Philip insisted.

"I'm mad that he thought he had to tell you lies," Alexander clarified. He decided to take control of the conversation and brightened his tone, deliberately setting aside the challenge he now faced. "But hey. We still have a deal on the table, don't we?"

"But--don't you--I mean, you still want to--"

"I'm not promising anything," Alexander said honestly. "She may not change her mind; it may not be possible to change things right away. But if you'll agree to go back to school tomorrow with your Aunt Eliza, and do your best until Christmas, I'll agree to call Miss Judy and Ms. Hochstein and--explore our options. We can talk about it when we're here again in December. Okay?"

Philip sniffed again, but this time did not cry. "O--okay," he agreed.

" _¡Me mola!_ " Alexander said with feigned enthusiasm. He offered his hand to shake. "It's a deal," he announced as Philip shook with him. "Now. Do you think you can come down and eat?"

~

Since she would be leaving the next day, Juan asked for Angelica to read to him and tuck him in after dinner. Phil asked if Philip wanted him and Sarah to make sure he was all packed, but he shrugged away the offer. Phil looked daggers at Alexander as he went back upstairs to his wife.

As she put the finishing touches on their own packing, Eliza kept darting little glances at Alexander, too. She seemed to be willing him to volunteer the content of his discussion with Philip, but unwilling to ask him about it outright.

He used the bathroom and changed for bed, still wrapped up in his own thoughts about what to say and how to say it. When he reentered her old room, Eliza took her turn. He noted gratefully that she had laid out clothes for the morning for both of them. He added his watch to his neat pile of clothing and climbed into Eliza's bed.

"Well?" she asked when she came back a few minutes later, shutting the door behind her.

"Well…?"

"Anything I should know before I spend four hours in a car with him tomorrow?"

Alexander grunted mirthlessly. "He, uh...he's got a little buyer's remorse, I think. He told the grief counselor he wanted to live with you--but not me. I think hearing that he couldn't have that--"

"Did he honestly think that would happen?"

"That doesn't matter. The point is that by the time he changed his mind, it was too late."

"He--changed his mind?" Eliza asked shrewdly. "About you?"

"Yeah." He let her get in bed before dousing his light. Then, as he spooned against her, he revealed his offer to revisit the question of custody at Christmas. 

"I don't understand," Eliza said. 

"Well, he got over his fear," Alexander began to say, but she cut him off, sitting up.

"No, that much was obvious. What I don't understand is why you didn't get him over it sooner. Why didn't you _talk_ to him sooner?" She clicked her light back on to look him in the eye. "I told you he wanted to connect, Alexander. The first day at the lawyer's, and every day after. I _told_ you that you could get through to him. Why did you wait until it was almost too late?"

"Hey, how is this _my_ fault? I can't force the boy not to be afraid of me," Alexander protested.

"I never said force him. I said _talk_ to him. Not tell him to do his homework or keep him from fighting with the boys. _Talk_ to him. Tell him about your experiences. Your mother, your cousin. Your brother. Maybe even--John."

He said nothing, merely stared at the coverlet. Eliza took his hand. "Alexander. If we do--take him in, assume guardianship, whatever--he's going to be grieving for a long time. I guess I was so focused on him that I never asked...if you're prepared to give him what he needs. He needs to know that what he's going through is normal. He needs to hear that you went through something similar, in some ways, even worse, and that he's going to be okay."

"I know--"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, you _know_ ," Eliza pressed on, "but you were so busy guarding your own pain that you could barely open up." She folded one leg under herself, angling to face him more directly. "He needs to hear it from you, Alex, even if he's living here. You're the only one here who has experience of what he's going through. You can...relate. And if that isn't something you can do, Alex--then don't give him false hope. Don't give _me_ false hope." She turned away, then, and turned off her light, and laid down with her back to him. 

Alexander held still, watching her as his eyes adjusted to the dark. Then he, too, slid down onto his pillow, facing away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**  
>  _ven aquí_ \- come here  
>  _Yo no se_ \- I don't know  
>  _¡Fóllame!_ \- Fuck me!  
>  _¡Me mola!_ \- I like it!
> 
>  
> 
> Well, hi! It's been a long time between updates. Sorry! Not intentional, by any means. I wish I could even claim a good reason, but it's more like a lot of little reasons that all added up. It's also an unintentional cliffhanger. I mean, I _intend_ to put Alexander in a tough spot (Eliza's none too happy, is she?)! Not sorry about that. I'm sorry to say, though, that I don't know how soon the next chapter will be available. I have not abandoned this story, be assured! My life situation is complex at present, and progress is slow, but I will continue to write as I'm able. Meanwhile, enjoy this development...by which I mean, of course, fret endlessly over how Alex is going to fix this impossible dilemma....
> 
> Thanks again to Kikibug13 for beta services!
> 
> I still owe one person a story from the Fandom Drumpfs Hate auction, so I have to try to get that posted. It's historical, about Ham and Laurens during the arrival of von Steuben. Stay tuned for that, and then chapter 7 will be coming up afterward.


	7. Christmas

On Sunday, Catherine drove Alexander and the boys to the train station, and Eliza picked them up back in New York. All the way there, Alexander stared at his case notes, but his mind kept circling back to Philip's unintentional slander. How could he clear himself? He still hadn't told Eliza anything about it. She was too pissed at him. She'd even continued to be chilly when they parted the day before. If she didn't want her hopes dashed, then it would be better she not know that the impediment had been due to Brad's prejudice.

The boys were blessedly well-behaved until about an hour outside of the city, when they started to get restless. "I sort of promised them we'd get pizza again," he admitted as they piled everyone into the car. 

"Do you want to know a secret?" Eliza whispered to him as they swapped places behind the car, so that he could drive home. "I'm actually dying for a pizza."

After dinner and baths and convincing the kids to make an early night, with school resuming in the morning, Eliza poured out two glasses of white wine and brought them into the den. 

"So, the train was all right?" she asked.

"Yeah, mostly. How did dropping him off go?" They had only really spoken briefly, when Eliza called to let him know she'd made it home safely.

"Fine…" she said, sounding tired. "Was there anything else that you two talked about, though? He seemed sort of nervous during the drive."

"Well, he didn't want to go back, so, he was probably anticipating being left alone," offered Alexander by way of explanation. It wasn't lying, so much as deflecting. 

"Maybe," Eliza murmured. She sipped her wine. "Seems like there was a little more to it."

Alexander shrugged. "You'd have to ask Philip what he was thinking about. Who knows?" He picked up his glass, put his feet up on the coffee table and wrapped his free arm around her shoulders. She curled her feet under, leaning into him.

"I'm sorry I was an asshole," Alexander said softly. 

"Aw. You say that like you're done," she teased him. 

"Ouch. Okay, I deserved that. But I am sorry."

She kissed him by way of acceptance. "Will you call Hochstein tomorrow? Or should I do it?"

"No, it's your first shift back in almost three weeks; I'll take care of it."

"It's your first day back, too--"

" _No, está bien_."

Eliza flicked on the TV. She flipped around until they found a movie. Before long, they were paying it no attention whatsoever. 

~

The next morning was a chaotic rush of lunches and backpacks and remembering how to function. Juan woke up rather wheezy, a fact which was not immediately discovered until he came down for breakfast. 

Eliza set aside lunch prep to get him his inhaler. It was not to be found in his backpack.

"Is it in your suitcase?" Eliza asked him.

"Dad had it," was all Juan could report.

"Alejandro, go ask your father where he put Johnny's inhaler."

Alex, Jr. got up from the table and went to the foot of the stairs to shout. He had to shout a couple of times.

"In his backpack!" came the reply from their bathroom. Alejandro then reported back to his mother.

She looked again with no results. Then she looked in Alejandro's and Jaime's backpacks. Exasperated, she told them all to finish eating and went upstairs, where the inhaler was also not in any of their suitcases. As she came into the master bedroom, Alexander was tying his tie.

"Is he okay?" he asked as soon as she appeared.

"It's not in his backpack," she said over him as she came in. "Did you use it on the train?"

"What's that?"

"Johnny's inhaler. It's not in his backpack, or his suitcase, or any of the boy's bags. Do you think maybe you lost it on the train?"

"No, of course not, I--" Alexander's eyes widened.

"I'll get out a new--"

"No!" Alexander said quickly. "Check my messenger bag--I probably swept it up with the stuff I was working on. We did use it on the train and his bag was up in the overhead, so. Yeah. Probably my bag. Is he okay?"

"He will be if I can find his inhaler," Eliza said warningly. She hurried back down the stairs to Alexander's office. She came around the desk, where his messenger bag lay semi-crumpled on the floor. She lifted it by the strap and rifled through the main pocket, pulling out a stack of pages of mixed yellow legal pad and printed paper. She set the stack down. The top page of Alexander's notes caught her eye, but she had a more important mission at the moment. She dug through his bag until at last, she felt a familiar L-shaped object.

"Thank you," she breathed reverently, and went back to the kitchen to administer the dose. 

She'd confront Alexander about the papers later. 

Crisis averted, Eliza went back to packing up their bags. Alexander came down, poured coffee into his travel cup, and threw a slice of bread in the toaster. "Okay, there, Johnny?" he asked, and got a big nod in response. He kissed him on top of his head, repeated the same for the other two as he came around the table, and then caught Eliza on her way to the kitchen island. "Want me to take him to daycare?" he asked.

"No, it's fine; I'll get these two off to school and drop him on my way in."

"Don't wanna," Juan volunteered.

"Too bad," Eliza and Alexander both said together. "Finish eating," she added to all three of them.

Alexander's toast popped and he brought it to the table for a little butter and jam. "Okay, I gotta go," he said. Toast slice in hand, he kissed Eliza again. Then he picked up his coffee and took it to the office to pack up his things. 

Eliza managed to butter a piece of toast for herself before it was time to get the children into coats and hats and grab their bags for the day. They left only a little bit behind Alexander. She walked the boys to their school and caught the subway to Juan's daycare. 

Work was a stream of people expressing condolences, apologizing for not being able to attend the memorial, offering to help. It was harder than she'd imagined, going back--not because the work was so difficult, but because the constant outpouring of love from her coworkers made it difficult to concentrate. The pain of Brad's death had already begun to fade, but each hug or held hand brought it back as if it was new. 

She wondered if she had better call the lawyer herself, even though Alexander had promised to do it. She could explain Philip's change of heart and appeal to Ms. Hochstein woman to woman; Alexander would treat it as lawyer to lawyer, which might not produce as sympathetic a result. But work kept her too busy. Every time she thought she might grab the chance, something else came up to take precedence.

~

For Alexander's part, getting back to work was both blessing and curse, but less due to the condolences than to the sheer volume of decisions that had been awaiting his return. He thought he had kept up reasonably well, but only when Maria brought in a sheaf of notes did he realize how much she'd been putting on hold for when he got back.

"Okay--can you see if Aaron and Jim could meet sometime today to go over the motions they've filed; give me the two cases Mr. Putnam assigned last week and I'll read them right away; and if you get a call from this number--" he handed her a post-it-- "put it straight through." He reached into his wallet for a $20. "I'd kill for a real coffee and a muffin. Want to send an intern and order something for yourself, too?"

Maria eyed the bill. "You know, one of these days I'm going to complain when you shove money in my face," she teased.

"Ha. Well, if you want to pay for your own danish, be my guest."

"Oh, no, honey, you know how much I deserve your bribery."

He laughed again, but fell to organizing his loaded desk and didn't even notice her leave. A few minutes later, there was a sharp knock on his half-open door. "Heeeey, look who's back!" said a smug, self-satisfied voice. It was attached to wide lips, a set of dark brown eyes, and a large, unruly Afro of puffy, tightly-curled hair.

"Maria!" Alexander shouted, looking up. "You're supposed to keep the riff-raff out of the office."

"She's not out there," Tom said, sidling into the room like he was about to assess every piece of artwork on the walls and sell it at auction. "Heard you took an unplanned leave."

"Death in the family, Tom," Alexander muttered, barely looking up from his brief. "Thanks for your concern."

"Well, that is news," Tom said, leaning on the back of the chair opposite Alexander's desk. "Alexander Hamilton has _family_."

That brought Alexander's eyes off his page and up to Tom's face. "Eliza's brother," he heard himself clarify, cursing himself for falling into Tom's traps, as always. Anyone else would have offered condolences, even if they were insincere. Tom….

"Mm-hmm," Tom managed to drawl even when humming. "You know, some people round here didn't believe me when I told them you's married to Senator Schuyler's daughter."

"There are days I don't believe it myself, Tom. What do you want?"

"I want to know why you're getting calls...from the President." He laughed, a barking, open-mouthed sound like a coughing hyena, not waiting for the answer Alexander had yet to form, taking his shock as confirmation. "See? I tol' them, my homeboy Alex has mad connects."

"What do you want, Tom?" Alexander repeated.

"Oh...a compelling reason not to tell the partners. Like, perhaps, you've told them already?"

"There's nothing to tell anyone, yet," Alexander admitted. "I've been dealing with Brad's death and the family's recovery. Not to mention my caseload here, which is, of course, a priority."

"Yes, you wanna make sure your cases be all in good shape. Especially if you're gon' need to take _another_ leave so soon after coming back, to go and work for the White House. She-it."

"Why is it that whenever you try to talk street, you sound like a punkass cracker looking to score?" Alexander fired at him, knowing it would piss him off to be identified with the upperclass, predominantly white world he knew darn well Tom came from. 

"Who you callin' a cracker?" Tom predictably rose to Alexander's bait. 

"Did I say cracker? I meant crackhead. Tom. What. Do you want."

"I think the real question is, what does George want with _you_?" His grin spread as Alexander's glare transformed to a more resigned expression.

" _George_? Show some respect. He's the President of the--"

"And a close, personal, family friend of the Jeffersons, has been for years. Generations, one might even say."

"Fucking Virginians. Do all of you know everybody else in your state?"

"Everyone worth knowing." He flopped onto one of Alexander's sofas and crossed his legs at the ankle, leaning back against the arm with his own arms crossed. "So... what could dear old George want with our Alexander?"

"Don't you have any work to do?" Alexander grumbled. 

"Sure, but this is way more fun," Tom said.

"Well, I suggest that you ask the President what he wants, if you're so close to him," Alexander snipped.

He was saved, ironically, by the arrival of Aaron and Jim. 

"Maria stopped by on her way for coffee. She said you wanted to touch base," Jim said, eyeing Tom nervously.

"I do," Alexander answered eagerly. "Excuse us, Tom." He stood up and restrained himself from tossing Jefferson bodily from his office.

"We've moved your court date to December fourth," Aaron said, handing over the brief. The two men took seats on the now-vacant sofa while Alexander tried to close the door on Tom's face. But just as he was about to, he caught sight of Maria returning with a carry-tray of coffee and two pastry bags.

"Give me one minute, fellas," he said to the other two, and stepped over the threshold toward Maria's desk. She saw the two of them hovering. The briefest flash of doubt flickered over her face before she transformed it into a brilliant smile.

"Well, I must be the most popular assistant on the floor," she said brightly. Alexander offered to hold the coffee tray while she set down her purse and removed her coat. "Thanks. Couldn't find an intern." Tom merely stood by, watching. Maria calmly hung up her coat on the rack. She examined the tray in Alexander's hand and eased one cup out of the holder, then plucked one of the bags up in her other hand. "The rest is yours," she told him.

"Thanks. Jim and Aaron are inside, so--when's my next thing?" He turned his back on Tom as he spoke.

"You're clear for a while. Let me get settled and I'll buzz you about 30 minutes before you need to be anywhere."

"Perfect." He side-eyed toward where Tom loomed, then with a grimace and an eyeroll, indicated that he wanted to talk to her alone but couldn't with Tom there.

Maria got the message. "Go on in, then, and let a sister do her job."

"Yes, ma'am," Alexander said cheerfully. He retreated to the office, trusting that Maria could get rid of Tom on her own.

~

"And you don't think the precedent's going to apply?" Alexander asked Jim as they rose, almost an hour later.

He shrugged. "They'll try to apply it, but it won't work," he said confidently.

"Great. Thanks, Jim. Both of you, I really--"

"We heard it was a bit of a family situation," Aaron said kindly. "It's the least we could do."

"Still, I appreciate it," said Alexander. He stepped out with them to return to Maria's desk. "What's next?" he asked her.

She gave him a rundown of his schedule as his colleagues walked away. Then when they were alone, he jerked his head toward his office and they went in together.

"What did that _pendejo_ Jefferson want?" he demanded as he shut the door behind her.

"What does he ever want," Maria answered. "Don't worry, I didn't give him any gossip."

"Okay, good."

"But you really should call that number," Maria continued, pushing a message memo with a Virginia number on it. "I know you said put it through, but--"

"Yeah, no, it's all right. I couldn't have taken it with them in the room. I also need to get in touch with Annie Hochstein up in Albany. Today if possible."

"Got a number for her or am I calling Information?"

"Have a card somewhere, hang on…." He pulled his briefcase onto the desk and rifled through it until he found the right piece of paper. 

"Everything all right up there?" Maria wondered as he handed it over.

"Complicated," he muttered. "Schuylers."

"Listen, Ham, I wanted to talk to you about something."

He dropped the pages still in his hands and focused on her. "That--does not sound like a good start to a conversation. You're not quitting, are you?"

"No."

" _Gracias a dios_ ," he chuckled, but the laugh died as he noted her sober expression. "Okay," he continued with a shrug. "What is it?"

"It's JayRay--he gets out of prison in six months," she said. 

"So you want a restraining order," Alexander guessed. "No problem, we can--"

"No, I don't need one."

"Maria," he began warningly, but she waved his concern aside.

"I mean, I already have a motion for one."

"Oh," he frowned, impressed. Then, as realization hit him, "Oh! Well...good."

"The thing is, I didn't file before but now, I've decided I want the divorce."

Alexander nodded, jumping three steps ahead as usual. "Yeah, absolutely, and don't worry, it should be pretty straightforward--"

"Ham. Aaron's filing it for me," she said bluntly, cutting him off.

"Sorry, who?"

"Aaron. Aaron Burr."

He blinked. The breath he took in caught before he could use it to form a word, then the mouth closed again on a frown. 

Maria chuckled. "Speechless, wow. I don't want you to think--"

"No, it's...it makes sense. Representing you would complicate things and....Aaron's good at divorces. Mejor que yo, in fact."

"I know," Maria said, her lips closing in a tight smile. "I'm glad you agree." She tapped the memo. "Call the White House, Ham." Then she left him alone, taking Ms. Hochstein's number with her.

~

It took three rounds of phone tag, but eventually, he was able to speak to Ms.Hochstein about Philip's change of heart regarding custody.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "as you know, it's not a court-ordered situation, of course. But...I have to tell you that the additional information we were given was fairly clear. I'm sorry it wasn't in the documents I had on file, and that there was disagreement between my copies of Beth's will and Ms. Carver's, but…. you know probate."

"Yeah, I know," Alexander commiserated. "Look, all I'm asking is if we can review everything when we're back in Albany at Christmastime. I think if he talked to that counselor again…."

"Mr. Hamilton, I'm happy to arrange for him to see Dr. Mills again--I'm sure it could only be good for him to continue to talk to someone--but--" she paused as if unwilling to break the bad news-- "but I don't think it will demonstrably change her recommendations. And I can tell you it won't impact Beth and Brad's codicil from Ms. Carver's office."

"Look, I know you didn't want to go into too many details before--in fact, I appreciate your discretion. The fact is that Philip's given us more insight as to what might be in those codicils. And if they say what I think they say, they're based on supposition and bad information."

She sighed. "Even if that's true, you know as well as I that it doesn't matter. Brad and Beth Schuyler signed and witnessed documents that supercede the will in my possession as it pertains to Philip's custody, and without compelling reason, it's going to be very difficult to prove that their wishes should be ignored."

He said nothing for a moment, debating the wisdom of his next statement. Then: "It specifically says that he's not to come to me and Eliza, doesn't it."

Her silence was all the confirmation he needed. 

"So no matter how badly she--we--want to be his guardians, or he wants to stay…."

"I'm sorry." 

"No--I was afraid that might be the case. We found out from Philip that Brad accused me of--of impropriety around children. It's completely baseless," he added, unable to stop himself.

"I'm sure it is." She sighed again. "For what it's worth, there are no allegations or reasons given in the will, and I would find them hard to believe if there were any. I'm sure you and Elizabeth are good parents, and before I received that addendum...well, let's say I would have considered your application strongly."

"Strongly enough to grant it?"

She made a short humming sound of correction. "Mm, well...I probably would still have tipped toward access for his maternal grandparents, at least during the summers. The fact that you have three children could have gone for or against you, but I was leaning toward for."

"But then the new version of the will."

"Yes," she agreed sadly. 

"Does it actually prevent us from--"

"Well...no. But it does indicate that you're only to take full custody as a last resort. If the alternative would entrust him to strangers, for example."

"I see," he said bitterly. 

"Look…. I will certainly recommend another couple of visits with Judy over the Christmas break," she offered. "And we can continue to monitor how he adjusts. We were always going to revisit the situation based on his future at school, anyway."

"Yeah," said Alexander, suppressing more disappointment than he'd expected to feel.

"I'll be in touch when I've arranged for the appointments, all right?" she offered.

"Yeah," he said again. At this point, he just wanted to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

"Mr. Hamilton, please don't take this as any sort of indictment. As I say, if the Schuylers' wishes had been more flexible…."

"Yeah. I get it," he told her. "We'll look forward to hearing from you."

He hung up. He couldn't decide if his reaction had more to do with Philip's welfare or the sting of knowing that Brad had gone out of his way to prevent Eliza from taking care of his own son, on account of Alexander. Moreover, he still had to find a way to tell her--and he knew now that just explaining that the will precluded it would not be enough. She would probe deeper, and he would have to tell her that Brad had specifically torpedoed them due to homophobia and a mistaken sense of moral outrage.

It was not going to be a good conversation.

And that was before adding on the discussion they had to have about him going to work in the White House for the next six weeks. 

~

"I don't understand," Eliza repeated. "You're saying there's no way? And that you're not even going back to Albany with us?"

"I'm saying--that _if_ I join the administration as a speechwriter, I'm going to have to move to the capitol for a little while. That's the only way it'll work."

"All the way to Williamsburg?"

"Just until the State of the Union. Then I'm home."

She scoffed. "You don't think he'll offer you a long-term position?"

"Whether he does or not, I'm coming home after the State of the Union," he insisted. "I know the timing's awful."

"Awful! Awful, he says. It's a disaster. We just got back. You promised Philip we would all be back in Albany at Christmas. And the boys still think we'll see Gil and Adrienne here in New York."

"I know. I can't change the timing, Betsey."

"You could say no, Alexander."

"Bets, it's the State of the Union--"

"Other people can help him write it," she said firmly.

"Yes. But they can't help him craft it," Alexander replied. "I--I owe it to...to John."

He said the name gently, trying for neutral. But there was no mistaking the hitch in his voice as the syllable dropped. There was no mistaking the sharp intake of Eliza's breath, either, nor the tears that brimmed in her eyes. He looked away to avoid spilling his own. "I promised him if I ever got the chance, I'd protect others. Other couples. I wasn't around when Washington took office--no, I'm not upset about it--there were loads of reasons, good reasons, not to take a job in public service right then. But now…. I can't see a way to say no. He's the President, Bets. And he's asking me to serve."

Eliza was quiet for a long time. She leaned forward to pluck a tissue from the box on the coffee table. Alexander waited while she dabbed her eyes and swiped her nose. "You're right. Of course, you're right. So…how will it work? Just get a hotel room for six weeks?"

"More or less, yeah. And, I could commute, maybe on the weekends. Rack up the frequent flyer points."

She took that in for a moment. "You'd fly home every weekend? Do you really think you'd be able to get away so often?"

"I have no idea what to expect," he admitted. "I mean, the last time I worked for him was before I met you. Before Jack got sick. He kept a pretty fast pace back then, but now he's been President for more than a decade, so--" he shrugged. "At least he's got more staff now to carry the load."

"He's not as young as he used to be, either," Eliza agreed, "but it's still a demanding schedule. I just feel like we'll never see you." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Maybe it's for the best that Philip's not in the cards."

"Maybe."

She looked at him sharply, like she was trying to decide if he felt smug. Alexander kept his face poker-neutral. At last, she sighed and said, "So...when do you leave?"

"Well, I haven't accepted yet," Alexander said, grinning. "I told them I had to talk to you first, and then fly down the day after tomorrow." He chuckled. "Have to make sure the Great Man and I can still work together, after all."

Eliza rolled her eyes. "It's a formality, is what you're saying."

"It's a formality," he agreed. "Are you going to be okay with all this?"

"Like you said," she shrugged, "we'll manage."

~

Manage, they did. It was difficult, juggling the demands of the writing staff, Congress, the White House, the giant man himself, and the family, but Alexander thrived on nothing so much as a challenge. He immersed himself in the work. As for himself and Washington, they seemed to pick up almost as if they had never left off. As if Alexander had not quit over a flimsy excuse halfway into Washington's first election campaign. As if he had not had to lie about it to him, because, "I have to take care of my dying lover" was not a reason he could have given back in 1981. As if he hadn't wondered, ever since, whether Washington held it against him somehow.

Perhaps it was that lingering guilt that propelled him to take a less contentious attitude than he had had back then. Or, more likely, Alexander thought, it was the years of Eliza's calming influence since then. He did have to admit that there were some shocking similarities between Washington's mercurial moods and the temperaments of three rambunctious sons. On the other hand, fifteen years had done little to flag the President's energy. And to Alexander's delight, it had also done nothing to change Mrs. Washington's kindness or charm.

He tried to make it home on the weekends, but it was Christmas before he knew it. Washington insisted he go home for the holiday, and Alexander insisted he could only afford the briefest visit. They compromised: 48 hours. He flew in to Albany late in the afternoon on the 23rd. Peggy--and her luggage--were waiting for him at the gate.

"I thought you were getting in yesterday!" he said, engulfing her in a hug.

"Got delayed in Chicago. Snow in the Midwest. As it happens, I just got here half an hour ago. I called Lizzie and she told me where to meet your flight."

Alexander put an arm around her bony shoulders. "Everything okay in Vegas?" he asked. He tried not to calculate her weight but it was impossible not to notice that it looked a bit healthier.

"Everything's fine," she said pointedly. "I just had my second appointment with that doctor you found, and he says as long as I maintain enough protein for muscle mass, my intake is fine."

"I meant your roommate," he teased.

"You did not. But everything's good there, too." She blushed. 

"Not good enough to bring her out with you," he observed.

She swatted his arm lightly. "Shut up. Oh, my god, you're terrible."

"I've had loads of practice."

Peggy insisted on riding in back so that Eliza and Alexander could talk on the ride to the Schuyler house. 

"Has it been more peaceful than the last gathering?" he asked after they exchanged the usual greetings and catch-ups. 

"Sort of. Philip's been home with Mom and Daddy since Wednesday. Linda and Grant drove up yesterday but they're staying in a hotel. Phil's got a drill weekend, so Sarah went to her family's. I guess she didn't want to deal with all that happened last time. And I don't really blame her."

"How's little Phil?" Peggy asked from the back.

Eliza sighed. "Better. I think? He's been quiet but at least no tantrums. He seems to be getting along with Alejandro and Jaime, at least."

"Shit," Alexander said suddenly.

"What?" both women asked in alarm. 

"Uh. I never re-connected to Ms. Hochstein. Bets, _lo siento_ \--"

"Don't be. I called her."

" _Ay, cariña_ …."

She grinned at him before sliding into the exit lane. "I knew you'd get distracted and forget."

"I didn't _forget_ , I just--"

"--Had too much to do. I know. It's okay; I took care of it."

"So, is she going to reconsider?" Peggy asked. 

At this, Eliza's face tightened. "Not right now," she said, eyeing Alexander. "She's open to it, but at the end of the school year, not before."

"Well, I guess that makes sense," said Peggy, to which Eliza only grunted. They didn't speak for several moments, until Alexander pointedly changed the topic to how decorated the house would be when they arrived.

The answer, he saw, was nearly professionally. Lights adorned the porch roofs, outlined the windows, and twisted in spirals around the columns to either side of the portico. A tasteful wreath hung over the knocker on the door. Inside, the lights, tinsel, and ornaments that they had brought down at Thanksgiving twinkled on an enormous tree that reached up to the second floor landing. It dominated the foyer hallway. The only thing missing were the presents, which they would add on Christmas Eve after the children went to bed. Alexander barely had time to register it all before three small monsters attacked him.

"Dad!" Amidst the small tsunami of limbs, Alexander noted that they all seemed to have grown about six inches since he'd seen them three weeks before. He could barely make out all the news they were trying to tell him, all at once. 

"One at a time, _chavales_ , one at a time!" he said, planting kisses on them as quickly as he could pin them down.

"How's Williamsburg?" Philip, Sr. asked once the furor died down.

"Crazy, of course. Do you miss it?" Alexander grinned over the heads of his children.

"Not one bit," Philip laughed. He took Peggy's hand. "Leave the bags for now. Catherine's got supper ready, come on." 

Peggy went with her father toward the dining room, with only a brief eyeroll toward Alexander. He chuckled, then shook Alejandro's shoulder. " _Oralé, mijo_ , take your Aunt Peggy's bag up to her room, ok? Jaime, want to run mine up for me?"

They both shrugged agreement. "No peeking!" Alexander called after them. He scooped Juan into his arms, now that his brothers were occupied. "How about you, big man? Behaving yourself?"

"Yeah," Juan assured him gravely. 

"Hungry?"

" _¡Si!_ "

Laughing again, Alexander carried the toddler to the table. Catherine, Kitty, and young Philip entered from the kitchen, all laden with trays and bowls. Catherine's meal was simple, by her standards: hot pot, soba noodles, chicken in soy sauce, sauteed beans, and meatballs in a green curry. "It may seem like a lot," she said as they sat down, "but we'll have leftovers tomorrow and that gives us a chance to prepare for Christmas." 

"You don't have to explain, Ma," Eliza said. "Everything looks great."

"Philip made the curry sauce himself," Catherine said proudly, nodding toward the young boy. He blushed. This triggered a number of encouraging clucks around the table, until the boy's grandfather murmured something about whether her statement was meant to be a warning. Philip's face fell. "He's just teasing you," Catherine said, but the look she sent her husband was as close to poison as Alexander had ever seen her give the man. "The curry's fine."

They took hands, said a brief grace, and tucked in to the meal. Catherine was right: the curry had no faults. But throughout the conversation, much of which was Alexander catching up on the end of the boys' terms at school, he had the sense that Philip was watching him closely. It didn't surprise him; after all, he had made a promise a month ago and Philip had to be curious about whether Alexander would keep that promise. The trouble was, of course, that it was Eliza who'd contacted Anne Hochstein, and given how they'd left things before, he had no reason to think the answer would be what Philip wanted. Or what Eliza wanted. Or what he wanted. He had a feeling they could not all be happy with the outcome.

When dinner ended, Alexander said carefully, "Pegs, you hardly ever get to see the hellions. Care to take them downstairs for some holiday specials?"

" _Charlie Brown Christmas_?" she offered. "How about it, boys? Not too boring to spend time with your auntie?"

"Rudolph!" Juan said happily. 

"Come on, let's see if I remember how to use the system," Peggy said as he grabbed her hand. As she passed, she smirked at Eliza and Alexander, jerking her eyes at Philip. Eliza shook her head subtly. "Philip, how about you join us?" Peggy added. "I hardly get to see you, either."

"Um…" Philip darted glances at the other two. "I guess," he said with considerably less enthusiasm than his cousins. 

"We can talk in a little bit," Alexander heard himself saying. "Enjoy the program, okay?"

Philip appeared about to argue for a moment, but then he set his jaw. "Whatever," he said with a shrug. He followed the others to the family room.

"So…" Alexander said to Eliza when they shut the door on the library. Then neither needed to speak for a few minutes, beyond little nothings. Then: "Hi."

"Hi," Eliza said back. She straightened his collar. "You're thin."

"We're working hard. You talked to Hochstein again?"

She nodded, mouth set in disappointment. "She still wants us to hold off until the end of the school year. She thinks it's too soon to change things."

"Did...she say anything else?" Alexander asked. He was surprised to feel his heart rabbitting in his chest, and not just from their exertion. 

"Just what you told me, last month," Eliza said. "That the terms of the second will are binding, that without a compelling reason she can't countermand them. I still can't believe Brad would turn against us like that…."

Alexander merely shrugged. If he refused to get worked up, perhaps she'd drop it. But Eliza was just warming to the topic. "The thing that gets me is he had to have been ashamed of the decision, or he wouldn't have gone through Beth's lawyer."

"Betsey," Alexander said through a nervous cough. "It doesn't matter why. What do you want to tell Philip? He's waiting for us--for me--to tell him we've worked everything out."

"That's not what you promised," Eliza said, automatically moving to comfort him.

Alexander grimaced. "Do you think that matters? And anyway...that's a change from what you said to me in November." He circled his arms around her waist. She scowled at him, but leaned her head against his.

"Maybe I've had time to think about it," she sighed.

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?" He kissed her cheek.

"It's Christmas," she said flatly.

"Mm-hm," he said, planting a kiss near the base of her neck. "So I'm forgiven?"

He could feel her smile. "I missed you," she said instead.

" _Yo tambièn te extrañado, cariña_ ," he told her. She turned toward him as he kissed her collarbone. They fell onto the sofa together.

"To answer your question," she said a few minutes later, "I know that the situation's out of your control. But I still want to push for Philip. I still think he's better off with us than anywhere else."

"Okay, but Bets, all I'm saying is don't hold me accountable if it doesn't work out." It sounded weak, even to him. But he couldn't help it. He could only imagine how she might blame him if she found out the real reason they would never be Philip's guardians. 

"I don't--I won't," she promised as she buttoned her blouse back up. "But...Philip might."

" _¡Yo se!_ But what do we tell him?"

"I tried to tell him already. That we have to wait a while longer. He wants to hear it from you."

" _¡Fóllame!_ "

"Sorry."

"It's all right; I was expecting as much, anyway. Think he's already gone to bed?" he asked wishfully.

Eliza chuckled. "No such luck." 

Alexander folded his tie and shoved it into his pocket. He took both her hands in his. "Face the music?" he verified.

"Yup." She tugged on his hands to lead him back out of the room.

They came downstairs to the darkened family room. Juan had fallen asleep with his head in Peggy's lap, but the others were engrossed by stop-motion Rankin Bass animation on the screen. At their approach, Philip stood up.

"I can take Juan to bed," Peggy whispered to Eliza.

"Not just yet," she said, and held out her hand to Philip. He moved toward the couple, though he ignored her outstretched palm. He preceded them back up the steps. At the top, he turned to face them. Alexander recognized the pose the boy struck, like that of a prisoner facing a firing squad. He wished he didn't know how it felt to stand and wait for the opening salvo.

Eliza cleared her throat. "Philip, you know your uncle and I haven't had a lot of--time together--since Thanksgiving. But, um--" She looked up at Alexander. Her eyes shone in the reflected light of the foyer chandelier.

"We, uh, we did each talk to Miss Hochstein a couple of times since then, though. We aren't forgetting about you."

"But nothing's going to change, is it?" Philip concluded. "You couldn't fix it."

"We arranged for you to see Miss Judy agan while you visit," Eliza said.

This was welcome news to Alexander. He quietly added, "I think you should tell her what you want, Philip, as honestly as you can manage."

"Will it make any differerence?" he muttered angrily. "Everyone's already made up their mind."

"It can't hurt," said Alexander. "And it might be the only thing that does make a difference."

Philip puffed out his lower lip. "You lied," he growled.

"No, we didn't," Alexander said. "We said we'd try."

"You _lied_. You said in three weeks you could fix it."

"That's not what I said," Alexander corrected, fighting to keep his voice neutral. "I said it would be three weeks before we could discuss anything further. We've since learned that we're going to have to leave things as they are for now, and make the best of it."

Philip shrugged. "Grown-ups lie. I get it."

"Philip," Eliza cajoled, "is it really...so bad? You haven't even really tried yet. You haven't spent more than a few days outside school and--"

"I hate school," Philip declared.

"Well, I know, but you've only got a few months 'til the end of the school year, and--"

"I _hate_ it," he repeated. "You just want me to go back there so you don't have to think about me."

"Honey, no, of course we're thinking about you," Eliza protested.

"Admit it, you don't really want me, anyway. That's why you didn't get that lawyer lady to say I could stay with you."

"Philip, sweetie, no--"

Sensing that Eliza was losing ground, Alexander jumped in. " _Oralé_ , Philip, you gotta give us a chance, here. What you want us to do sounds easy, but it's complicated. It's only been a few weeks, it's the holidays, and we've both been unusually busy. These things take time, okay? Meanwhile, you've got food, you've got a roof, you've got two sets of grandparents who can't wait to have you home with them on your vacations. You're Aunt Lizzie's right. Could be a whole lot worse."

"Oh, like, I could be in an orphanage?" he shot back sarcastically. "Starving?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact. Not that it's something you'd ever have to worry about," he added more reassuringly, when Eliza squeezed his arm.

"Bet you'd love that," Philip accused venomously.

"No, I wouldn't. That's the point, _chaval_ , you're doing _fine_. Maybe it's not ideal but it's a far cry from horrible."

"How do _you_ know?" Philip said hotly, voice rising. "You don't know anything about it. You think just cuz they feed us and the beds don't suck, it's great? Like I should be happy I have to go to that stuffy place? I hate everyone there. I _hate_ it. And they hate me. And I hate _you_!" he wound himself to a furious shout, then rushed up the stairs toward his room.

Eliza took a convulsive step forward to follow, but Alexander grabbed her arm. "Let him go. Let him have this round."

"But--"

"No, he's right. Just because he's comfortable doesn't mean it's okay. I should have--it's not just about physical needs. Do you know if he's talked to the school counselor, or a teacher, since he went back?"

"I--no, I...don't know," Eliza admitted. " _Lā shǐ_. I should have asked. I mean--I assumed they'd _check_ on him…"

"Yeah. But if he bottled up on Miss Judy, who's to say he didn't clam up with them, too? 'They hate me.' Sounds like the other boys in his class or dorm or whatever are giving him trouble." He brought her hand to his lips. "Let him wring himself out tonight. I'll try talking to him again tomorrow. For now," he pulled her close, "I haven't seen my family for three weeks. Let's go watch TV for a bit and tuck our sons into bed."

~

The next day, Philip came down for breakfast and immediately headed back upstairs. Alexander followed him into the hallway. "Hold up a sec," he called to him. Philip stopped, shoulders slumped. 

"It's Christmas. Do you have to yell at me more on Christmas?" he whined.

"I'm not planning to yell at you. C'mon in the library, let's talk a bit, okay?" Alexander took a few steps toward the door in question. 

Philip sighed, but stepped off the stair and walked past Alexander with a baleful expression. It was clear he saw the requested conversation as an ordeal to be endured, a price for his tantrum of the night before. Alexander said nothing until he had closed the door behind them. He kept his distance, but took care to keep his voice warm when he did speak.

"I wanted to apologize for upsetting you last night," he said softly. "You're right. I was only thinking about your physical needs. It's natural that you're feeling sensitive and, I dunno--angry and scared. I just want to tell you, Philip, I get it. If you want to--talk about it, you can."

"I don't want to," Philip said defiantly. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Well, how about why you hate school? You said everyone hates you. Are you having trouble with anyone in particular? Are they giving you a hard time because of your parents?"

Philip shrugged.

"Because you're mixed race?" Alexander tried. Another shrug was his only answer. He sighed. "Buddy, you gotta help me, here," he said, crossing to one of the sofas to sit. Tomorrow, they'd light the fire in here to accompany opening the presents, but for now, the neat row of empty stockings on the mantel hung above a cold hearth. "If you want Miss Judy and Ms. Hochstein to recommend changing your situation, we need a good reason."

"I _hate_ it," Philip repeated, as if that made the reason self-explanatory.

"Yeah, I get that, but _why_?" He patted the cushion next to him. "Tell me what's up."

Philip's lip quivered. He looked away, toward the window and the snowy landscape. "I can't sleep there," he admitted after a moment.

"Bad dreams?"

Philip shook his head. He made no move to come and sit, remained focused on the lawn outside the window. "Just can't sleep."

"Did you ask to see the nurse? Are you sleeping during the day?"

"No, sir."

"Okay. You know, Aunt Lizzie's a nurse."

Philip shrugged.

"Maybe if we can help you get some sleep it'll be easier, huh?"

Philip scowled. "See? You just want to dump me there so you can just go back to normal. But you said it's never gonna be normal, ever, so why you just wanna pretend like it is?"

"I'm not pretending, kiddo. But I know a thing or two about mourning, and getting enough rest is a big help. I'm not happy your school didn't figure out you're having problems, though, and we can do something about that." He beckoned again. This time, Philip reluctantly sat, as far away as he could, practically hugging the opposite arm of the couch. "Philip, look. We gotta work together on this, okay? Now, you and me, we know that what you told Miss Judy about me--that wasn't true. No, no--you didn't know at the time, I get that," he added quickly, before Philip tried to defend himself. "I'm not calling you a liar. But it made things harder, you see that, right?"

Philip nodded sadly. 

"So, now, we're gonna have to work harder if we want to fix it. I can't do it alone. You have to help me out. So we stick together, yeah? If you're having problems, you tell me. Or tell Aunt Lizzie. Or Gramps or Grammy--you tell _someone_. Okay? Deal?"

Philip hesitated. Alexander plowed on. "Next thing, though, is it's gonna take a while to make things change. You just gotta make the best of it temporarily, kiddo, until we can make the others budge. Make sense?"

Philip nodded ever so slightly. " _Guay_ ," said Alexander, taking it for agreement. "Now--here's the hardest part. And I'm sorry, but it's non-negotiable. You have to really try to make the current situation work. Apply yourself at school. Get help if you need it. Talk to your grandparents. Be nice to Grandma Linda and your Grandpa Grant. Stay out of trouble. See how it goes. I'm not gonna give up, okay? But we can't get anywhere if we don't work together."

"What are you gonna do, then?" Philip asked. "While I'm stuck, what's your part of the bargain?"

"Me?" Alexander reacted. It was a reasonable question. "Well, I'm gonna see what I can do to find a way through your mom and dad's will, so we can be more flexible about the arrangement." He held his breath. It still wasn't a promise that they'd be able to take custody, but maybe with the benefit of a few months, Philip would adjust. And regardless, maybe the ability to come visit would help everyone's case. It would give Eliza a taste of the mothering she wanted to bestow; it would prove to Anne Hochstein tht Alexander was not a threat or a risk; it would provide a little of Philip's desired comfort, as well. And maybe it would convince them all that the original decision really was for the best.

Luckily, Philip accepted Alexander's explanation of his rôle without calling his bluff. "The whole semester, though?" he complained.

"Yeah. I promise, it'll go much more quickly than you think. It'll be okay, Philip. Trust me?" he held out his right hand to shake on it.

Philip didn't shake. Instead, he stared at the stockings. "How?" he asked quietly. "How can it?"

Alexander withdrew his hand to comb his hair in thought. "Well...it won't be the holidays forever."

They shared a grimace. Alexander continued, "And you know, it's okay to feel--whatever you're going to feel tonight. Tomorrow. It's Christmas. It's the first Christmas without them. You're gonna miss them a lot. But it's also Christmas and it's a happy time and I'm pretty sure there are presents for you, and you'll probably be happy with some of them. And that's okay, Philip. It's not--you're not disrespecting their memory if you feel happy about that. You know?"

Philip nodded, but didn't look back at Alexander. He suppressed a sniffle. Then, licking his lips, he blurted, "When you--I mean, what was it like your first time...without...without your parents?"

Even though he half-expected the question, it hit Alexander hard, as it always did. "It was...tough," he admitted. "More time had passed, for me, but--it's never easy."

"But you could be happy? Even just for a little bit?" Philip asked. Doubt made his voice small and pinched.

"Here and there," Alexander assured him. "Look, don't compare how anyone else handles things, Philip. Just take this as it comes. Trust me, no one's judging you." He rubbed his hands on his thighs as a precursor to getting up. "So. You okay for now? Are we partners?"

He was rewarded by a wistful sort of laugh--a single expulsion of air. "I guess."

"Cool. What do you say we go see what your grandmother's baking? Maybe help out? Lots to do before Santa gets here."

"There's no Santa, Uncle Alex," Philip informed him, as if it should be obvious.

Alexander laughed. "I know that, and you know that, but do me a favor: Juanito doesn't know that yet. Can we keep it a secret a little while longer, for him?"

Philip rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Close enough," said Alexander, rising. "Let's go find everyone else, hey, _chaval_?"

Philip shrugged. "Do you...can I just stay here for a little bit? Alone?"

Alexander took that in and nodded. "Yeah. Sure you can, Philip. But don't wallow in here all day, okay?" He retreated.

Philip came into the kitchen a short while later, to Alexander's relief, and everyone's delight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> No, está bien - No, it's okay  
> pendejo - (a more impolite form of) jerk  
> Gracias a dios - thank God  
> Mejor que yo - better than me  
> lo siento - I'm sorry  
> Yo tambièn te extrañado, cariña - I really missed you, too, honey  
> ¡Yo se! - I know!  
> Lā shǐ - Shit (Chinese)
> 
>  
> 
> Happy June and Pride Month, everyone! Many apologies this took so long to post! Still working...glacially. In other news, I'm job-hunting (again!), which may mean less time for writing...or more. We'll see! But rest assured, I won't give up entirely. I still have other pieces to finish, too. Stay tuned! Be sure to subscribe if you want the updates as soon as they come out, but be prepared for a bit of a wait for the next chapter. Thanks, as always, for reading along and sticking with this!

**Author's Note:**

> You can also follow me on Tumblr @gwenlygrace


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